1 Awaken, Cold and Lonely
by maroongrad
Summary: In Dracula, his head was cut off and his heart stabbed. In Hellsing, Alucard is back, and more than a bit insane. This is my link-up between the stories; how Abraham and Alucard were joined. Enjoy. no, I don't own the characters. Wish I did!
1. Chapter 1

He woke cold and empty. The background murmur of his Brides, which ran a constant and comforting background in his life, was silent. The joy he had taken in his newest fledgling, the pride and anticipation, were ashes. And his Mina, oh, his Mina, that betrayal broke what was left of his heart into jagged glass to pierce his soul.

He was dimly aware of his surroundings but they were meaningless to the great loss that was his existence. There was earth, and blood (blood? His? Whose?), and the sharp tang of broken wood. The sun burned him, but the heat and pain were a background to the agony inside. Alone, alone, alone again, with no anchor, no guide, and the weight of centuries warping and twisting his mind. Had it been minutes, hours, decades of this? The pain was unending, unlimited, unmarked, meaningless, and his mind struggled to stay afloat in a vast, swelling sea of torment that pulled him down, tempting him into the peace of utter madness.

The pain of the sun eased and ceased, the tiniest respite against the pure hell of his existence, and in that easement he pulled himself together to the very limited edges of his ability. Awareness beckoned, and, confused, he lay quietly, fighting to determine what had triggered this struggle to painful bleak waking.

Smoke. The scent of smoke upon the air, and the rumble of men's voices. His eyes shot open, seeing trampled earth (his earth? His coffin?) and a field of stars, and…and no one. But not alone. Men were near, salvation, food and comfort and an end to the consuming bitter loneliness that nibbled at the edges of his sanity, that waited eagerly to take him entirely in one great destroying gulp.

His body jerked, a head-to-toe attempt to fling himself towards the voices, and he forced calm upon himself. It would not do to waste what little energy he had to reach the men (the MEN!!!) and find himself too exhausted to move after futile struggling! Patience, patience hard-earned over centuries, forced him into stillness as he fought to master the urge to fling himself bodily towards the voices. First and foremost, what condition was he in?

Memories flooded him. The knives, flashing red already in the fire of the setting sun and then falling out of sight as they fell into him. The vision dissolved into grey fog, what had happened? The pain had ended, his corporeal form too damaged to keep his soul attached and aware, he must have drifted asleep as it reformed. How had he been so damaged? Memories flooded him, but this time, the flood was a raging torrent that grasped his mind and tumbled him mercilessly, slamming him into visions of a maddened Lucy lost in Hunger, the cold betraying stare of Mina, the mercifully brief screams of panic and utter shock as his Brides, his family, perished, and the men flinging themselves upon him like maddened dogs upon a cat, with their flashing red blades. And he knew, painfully, whose voices those were. The murderers of his family, the ones that stripped Mina from him, the ones that had thrown him into the maelstrom of loss and madness, waited nearby.

The drive to discover his condition became a desperate race, for although they had missed his reformation sometime in the day, this would not, could not, continue indefinitely. Pain raced along his arms, but they moved, they twitched, the ash that had come to make his body had made his arms whole. Weak, so weak, unable to do more than twitch, but oh, they moved! His legs? Had fate seen fit to restore function to them?

Shifting his right leg gave him the immediate answer to that. The pain shot up, racing from his shin and joining with the pain of his soul in an almost overwhelming shock that threatened to force him into madness as relief. Men, men, men were nearby, and the knowledge gave him the ability to cling tenaciously to his self and sanity. The loneliness, the pain, it could end, but he had to reach the men! He could seen, hear, smell, his senses undamaged, he had two working arms, and while his right leg was clearly damaged (in his mind, the coffin lid slid treacherously and ponderously from the tipped coffin, breaking free and tumbling, arching towards his leg as the knives arched in synchrony to take him).

Rolling to his stomach, yes, he could crawl to them, his arms could pull him along (how? He shook with hunger, with weakness, but the NEED was so great!) and he shifted to roll. The pain burst up from his chest, throwing him into a sea of red agony, flashes screaming in front of his eyes. He gasped, or tried, and the pain consumed him, flinging him into nothingness no matter how he flailed to stay, to remain.

His eyes opened again. It was still night, although the moon (had he seen the moon before? He must have.) had shifted, had continued its relentless course as he found his body, refused the insanity, kept his hope. But the voices, no matter how he tried, the voices were gone. Insanity clambered gleefully towards his mind but his own voice shouted them down, declaring that it was night, that men slept, that sleeping men did not talk, and that hope remained.

Men that he could not reach, but that did not cause despair to take him, their presence was hope and hope transformed to determination to make that possibility into his reality. Movement, walking or crawling to them, was not possible, no. The leg would have slowed him down, but clearly there was some immense injury in his chest stopping him entirely. His body had reformed as it could, but not all injuries could be smoothed away. Perhaps the knife was still there, or the injuries simply too severe, but the end result was that his body was anchored to the ground as unrelentingly as the mountains.

An attempt to cry out, to call to the men, to call Dr. Hellsing by name, call with his characteristic smooth and cultured voice and lure the doctor to his side, to the place of his despair and hope, was thwarted. Thwarted by another round of ripping pain that protested the movement of crushed ribs and the sliding of torn muscles in his attempt to call out. His proud, calm summons came out a twisted dim whimper and even that left him staring blankly at the sky.

Abraham was restless, and had volunteered for the first watch. Their great adversary might have been defeated, but a more mundane band of bandits or pack of wolves was perfectly capable of defeating a handful of exhausted men and a woman. One day of rest did not cure exhaustion and assorted sprains and cuts, although poor Quincy was long past caring. Wolf packs had cried in the distance and the horses shifted nervously in response, an owl had hooted, and small animals with their nocturnal bustlings had broken the cold winter stillness at random moments. But this sound was none of the above. It was perhaps the cry of a small dying animal, but in it was also the whimpering of a wolf pup.

And it came from the direction of the wrecked wagon.

The sound might be nothing but shifting metal cooling in the night air, or it might be the only warning that the unusually brave wolf packs of the mountain were hunting his small party. Not taking his eyes from the wagon, Abraham moved quietly to Seward's side, gently shaking him awake. Seward woke instantly, only to find Abraham's hand covering his mouth and to see Abraham staring fixedly at the wreckage. When living on the edge of danger for so long, there comes a time when communication is instantaneous and wordless, and such a moment occurred as Seward checked his pistol and took over guarding the camp so that Abraham's inspection of the wreck did not leave his companions unguarded and asleep.

Abraham watched the wagon closely, expecting to see a gray shape slinking behind it, perhaps the brief gleam of green eyes hungrily watching the sleeping men, to see nothing. Only the wagon, tipped on its side, wheels motionless in the moonlight, harness traces lying like limp snakes sprawled impotently across the trampled snow. Whatever made the sound was concealed behind the wagon, perhaps waiting for the camp to return to slumber before striking. Caution decreed that a direct route to the wagon should be avoided, and Abraham set out to circle about the wagon, trusting in the alertness and sense of Seward to stop attacks from the sides.

Nothing was moving, nothing was stirring, no gray shapes, no tiny plumes of frozen breath from panting red jaws. Circling behind the wagon showed nothing. Only the sprawl of boxes and belongings from the wagon bed, clear and crisp in the night air. The great coffin itself, fallen to the ground, the massive lid tumbled to the ground beside it, and lying in a dark spread under the moonlight, the dry black earth the coffin had contained. Its dark expanse was broken by the shining white countenance of the Count himself.

The shock of seeing his adversary returned held Abraham rooted to the ground for a minute, and the look on his face brought Seward to his side. Both stared silently at the scene. Clearly, the Count was the worse for his experiences. Bone shone whitely through the torn remnants of his once-fine pants and the odd lumpiness of his chest bespoke shattered bones and crushed viscerae. His face alone seemed undamaged, with the same fine sharp planes and somehow delicately rough features, but Abraham noticed with a jarring revelation that the gleaming red eyes of the Count remained open, staring in sightless shock at the stars above.

He had been watching the Count, in shock and fear and rage, and all the long heartbeats he stood, the Count had not moved. And the sound, the cry he had heard, had it been the Count stirring? Or had the Count already taken some small creature as his victim, had preyed already that night? This vicious, unkillable beast that had taken the life of Lucy, nearly destroyed the sanity of both Harkers, and had hunted and preyed its vicious way across Europe to England lay before him, lay in an obscene refusal to die, to begone, to fall to Man. It was with a bleak sort of grief that Abraham realized that it was entirely possible that the sound he heard was simply the Count's beginning of a new game, a new torture for them, and was meant to pull them out and place them at a disadvantage. The child-mind of the Count would find them a delicious game and at the end a delicious meal, were this the case. And the monster lay sprawled only a handful of steps beyond where he and Seward stood staring.


	2. Chapter 2

Dracula stared at the sky, unseeing. Hopeless, hopeless, the voices clamored, telling him the men had not heard, would not hear, that they slumbered unaware. The sun would rise, and he would have to choose. Death, and oblivion, and the gates of Hell waiting for him, or insanity and the wild power it offered, power he had refused for the centuries of its call. Refused with the help of his mates, his children, with the mundanities of a household and the responsibilities of an existence that had not vanished with his death as a human prince. Those responsibilities, the steady background hum of his wives, daughters, partners, family, had anchored him and given him the strength to resist the call of power and lure of madness.

And now, they were gone. The voices whispered at him, sibilantly hissing in the ear of his mind, promising him power and glee and joy and mindless slaughter and riches and rivers of blood. NO! He had given his soul, promised it to Hell when his body returned to a permanent state of dush and ash, but his MIND was HIS, and he would not give in so easily!

And so, he listened. And with a sense of shock and wonder, he could hear heartbeats. Racing, but strong, and the musk of men came to him on the breeze. His destroyers, the murderers of his family and the reason his existence was ash and rubble and scraps of memory and all pain. And men, with minds, with mortal strength, with companionship and veins full of rich red blood, with minds, yes, minds that were whole and unbroken spirits and the ability to fill that gaping void, to staunch the poison of the whispers falling into his mind.

Would they kill him, destroy him, pass him through to the gates of Hell? Or would they be merciful, as men were famous and infamous for, and restore him? Would they taunt him, torment him, and then leave him to die in the blaze of morning sun? They were there, so close, he could hear them, smell them, and do little but lie there in the prison of his broken body, staring at the sky.

Or not the sky. Something occluded it, some shape loomed against the vast background of the stars, thwarting the moon from reaching him. A few dazed seconds passed before he was able to force his eyes to focus, all his body fighting him and resisting anything but pure inertia, and see the doctor himself glaring viciously at his helpless form.

Helsing and Seward stared suspiciously at the monster. The vampire was not moving, not even blinking, simply sprawled across the soil and snow. Devoid of dignity and poise, sprawled, broken, and possibly helpless. Or, the doctor thought grimly, simply engaging in that lovely American phrase of "playing possum." It was impossible to tell.

"John," murmured Abraham, "I'm going for a closer look. If that thing twitches…" Here he paused, looking at his companion. Both knew that if the vampire was going to twitch, it was probably going to do much more, a great bloody bit more, and both knew what to do, and how quickly it must be done. Shaking his head, Abraham simply check his pistol as Seward did likewise, and then stalked cautiously towards to motionless creature.

The vampire simply stared at the sky, mouth relaxed and the gleam of a fang visible between the parted lips. However, the eyes were not blinking and nothing moved. Abraham edged closer, watching carefully, and then paused in shock. The creature was terribly damaged. The leg, broken by the coffin lid, had the ends of both bones protruding through the gashed skin. The chest, where the Bowie knife and then the stakes had been merciless pounded, remained partially caved in. The broken ribs and shattered sternum were visible through the rents in the tattered shirt. The vampire had appeared damaged and up close, the damage was absolutely undeniable and the extent was extreme. The arms and face seemed intact, despite the mouth that sagged open, and it was entirely possible the vampire still posed a great threat.

However, as Helsing approached and observed the creature, it wasn't very possible. He revised that thought to wildly unlikely. They had not destroyed the monster, but it would appear that they had, indeed, come quite close. The vile creature clung to existence, but as damaged as it was, perhaps that small problem could be fixed with the silver bullets in his pistol, or the stakes tucked in Seward's belt.

The eyes stared upward, and Abraham moved to take one final and almost leering look at the face of their fallen foe. The gun was lifted slightly, angled to deliver a bullet to the forehead of the beast, and yet, Abraham hesitated. The creature just seemed dazed, unaware, and despite the horrors it had inflicted on the company, it just seemed…

"It seems wrong." He thought. "So still, so helpless. I will kill it, but not for vengeance. I can't take vengeance against a creature, even one so evil, when it can't even recognize that vengeance is occurring." So instead, Abraham paused, and stared thoughtfully at the gleaming white face. And the eyes moved.

Long moments passed at the monster and the man stared at each other. One with a grim patience and barely-subdued anger, one with a quiet, dazed sort of desperation. Neither moved until Seward broke the tableau.

"Abraham." Pause, and then a bit more urgently. "Abraham!" Abraham looked up to meet John's eyes, and John was more than a bit relieved to see that his friend's and mentor's eyes were unclouded, uncontrolled by the monster. "Abraham, for the love of God, kill the thing."

"No, not yet. Come look."

Dracula fought against hope and dread as the crunch of the snow announced the approach of the second human. Would they kill him? Hurt him, taking advantage of his condition to extract a bit of vengeance? Toy with him before destroying him as they had destroyed his family? Would they ignore him, leaving him for the sun to finish? His mind, fuzzy and unfocused, scampered from dire possibility to dire possibility, but the background song of hope, of possible rescue from madness and loneliness, warred with those fears. With a mental jar, Dracula realized that both men now loomed above him, though when the second had arrived he could not truly recall.

"John, we have, for the first time, a vampire entirely at the mercy of humans. We can capture it, study it at leisure, determine what other weaknesses a vampire might have. He seems not able to fight nor die, and we have his coffin and a wagon right here."

"Abraham, you can't be serious. Keep that thing? That monster? It should be destroyed, and this ended. He's murdered an entire crew, killed who knows how many poor English souls, and do you forget Lucy? Quincy? What almost happened to Mina?"

"There are other vampires. We have garlic, the Holy Wafer, blessed silver, we can seal him in his coffin. In this state, I'm certain we can hold him. And then we can learn from him. And then there is the most telling question." And here, Abraham looked steadily at John, his piercing blue eyes seeming tired and resigned. "We have seen him die, turn to dust, with stakes and silver in him and his head lying apart from his body, and yet he has returned. I am not certain we can kill him. I suspect that we can, but will we turn him to dust, and then find in a year that he is returned, back in England, and hunting us down? I would want more assurance that he is truly gone, and finding the means to destroy him once and for all may take time and research. If he is destroyed, John, I want him destroyed for a certainty. Last night I would have sworn that we had ended him. Tonight, he is returned. I do not wish to make such a mistake again."

Pondering this, Seward stepped away from the man and the undead monster. True, the monster had seemed destroyed once, but then he had been healthy, and violently, vilely whole and intent on their death. Now, he was a shattered and weak shell. The three vampires in the castle had most certainly died, and Lucy was truly freed as well, but this vampire was most stubborn about dying.

"Agreed, but let us ask the others, too. They might have an idea or two as well." John quirked his mouth at Abraham, well aware of just how vocal the others would be at the prospect of not destroying the monster, or at least attempting it again! With a nod, Abraham motioned to the sleeping forms about the fire, and John went to wake them.


	3. Chapter 3

There were voices, raised in anger, lowered in discussion, intense and tight and tired and confused. They warred with the whispers in his head, but unlike the whispers, he could not make out the conversations. He was simply too tired to concentrate, to pick out the words of the foreign language and make sense of them. Instead, he lay and watched the constellations as they continued their slow and eternal dance across the sky, letting the words wash over him as he awaited his fate.

The crunch of snow (a minute? An hour? It was the same night, wasn't it?) brought him back and he fought to focus his eyes on the person approaching. The cold and the wind were drying out the surface (I could see earlier, could I not? Did they cover my eyes, what is, oh, they are dry, I must shut them?) , and he struggled to close them entirely, when before he had struggled to open them entirely.

"Well, vampire, it seems you are to be my property." Vague, dim red eyes stared at him. Van Helsing shifted, uncertain if the vampire saw him or understood him, but feeling that, out of respect for the worthy foe that the vampire had been, he should at least attempt to convey what was happening. "You'll be placed back in your coffin at dawn, and taken to England. If you survive the journey, you will be staying in England and under my control." The eyes blinked once, slowly, and then wavered as the vampire focused in on him. The face revealed no reaction, no emotion except fatigue, just the same exhausted, motionless visage with perhaps a trace of desperation.

The human (Helsing?) was speaking, but in the effort of vision the meaning of the words was lost. They tumbled against his mind, a welcome sound but one with no meaning, no purpose. But he was not destroyed, was not damaged, and the song of hope in his heart became louder. The shape, the human, crunched away over the snow but the noise of the camp continued. Mysterious, human, with the low hum of voices and discussions that veered into the sounds of argument, yet comforting in the nearness. They knew he existed, and they had not (yet?) engaged in the activities his benumbed mind had feared and dreaded. Yet they refused to connect with him, to sustain him, and while their company was treasured it was yet distant and almost accidental in its nature.

He suddenly realized that the voices were now around him, that vague shapes were looming and moving at the edges of his vision, that shifting sounds of wood and metal and groaning (the wagon?) were near him, and then

PAIN

PAIN, there was PAIN, waves of it racking him and shredding him. There was movement, twisting the leg, moving the torso, oh, it was pain! The surcease of the pain when he had been still was gone, and then he was still again, trying not to whimper and thus cause his chest to claw at him with poisonous talons of agony. Then there was stillness again, but his eyes shut and he saw blackness, a void with glimpses of light and flashes of bright as they failed to close fully, and the slits tormented him with the visual noise.

The pain died. No, he realized, to say it died would mean that it was gone, destroyed, vanished. It had not, not yet, but the shrill shrieks of agony from the wounds had settled to a low roar, no longer the persistent grumble they had been. And something was missing, instead of warmth on his back and the comfort of his soil, he instead felt cold, chill, (cold? I should not feel cold?) and wet, a creeping numbness that meant ice under him and thus separation from his earth. And therefore, there was pain. Not agony, but pain.

The slight snaps and gristly sounds when they shifted the count off the soil startled them, and with a dull meaty rip the damaged leg separated further. Still attached, but it was tearing like soft paper, and not sinew, tendon, and muscle. Soft, dry paper, for the body seemed almost half-mummified, half-rotten.

"He looks like Hell itself, and I'm not certain we can lift him into the coffin. He's more fragile that I expected." Van Helsing looked at the vampire, frustration and fatigue warring with grim satisfaction. The wagon had been righted, the coffin tipped back over and the bottom covered with the soil, but the vampire had clearly been damaged when the men had lifted him. They had moved him off the soil so as to access it, but the vampire had been unexpectedly…soft. Even the places where their hands had gripped him remained pressed in, a half-dozen dents upon his body. Bones in the chest had shifted, and not shifted back, and the lower leg was now only loosely attached. Surprisingly, he noticed with a detached air, there was no blood even though the wounds had been shifted about and gaped open with raw red mouths.

"Bloody Hell." This from Lord Godalming, who stared at the vampire with undisguised hate. Short on sleep, exhausted from the chase, grieving for Quincy, he had lost the argument to kill the vampire immediately, but had pushed and shoveled and shifted to prepare the wagon and coffin for the capture. And now, the damned creature was proving too soft and fragile and weak to even capture!

"Blood indeed." Spoke Mina, leaning upon the shovel (the same one that placed a mark upon the monster's head, no less, realized Helsing). "He has none. It's all bled out. He's dry, he's too starved, I think, to do anything. No blood." And she nodded wearily at the vampire, indicating the clean white snow about him, snow that should be bloodstained.

There was no speech, as the surviving members of the party stared at the vampire with various expressions of exhaustion, frustration, and resignation. They didn't stare long, though, as the sky was already lightening and dawn approached within the hour. Clearly, the vampire needed blood. Should they give it to him, or simply let him die?

"Would he die?" Helsing was the first to put voice to their thought. "Would he be damaged beyond use? Do we give him a bit of the blood, or return him to the coffin as he is?"

"It would not be as he is. It would be in large pieces." Seward gazed upon the vampire, mild disgust on his fatigued face. "If you are going to take him back, we're going to be picking up pieces of him if we lift him again. As they say "In for a penny, in for a pound." I'd rather like to see the effect of a bit of blood on him, too. Before we uncork him in England, and while there is a dawn coming soon and we have him trapped. His castle is blocked to him, his coffin is here, and we're armed. I daresay there won't be a better time or place to find out how he responds."

The vampire lay there, not insensible, but unable to make sense. He could hear the noise of their voices over the noise of his body, but he could not concentrate. The approaching dawn hammered at him, screaming at him to seek safety and dark, but he could not concentrate on that, either. He simply lay there, resigned to whatever fate they were going to bestow upon him (your fate, pain, death! Shrieked the mad voices) and sincerely hoping he would not be moved (was that the cause of pain? Had he hurt? Why did he not want moved?) and trying to piece together the jigsaw puzzle of memories from the night.

BLOOD.

It dripped into his mouth, smearing a trail down his lips, oozing its way down his tongue.

BLOOD.

Warm, fresh, shocking in its taste and elemental purity, it lay in the back of his mouth as it poured between his lips.

BLOOD.

"He's not swallowing." Had they waited too long? Was the argument, the fetching of supplies (Mina had pointed out sardonically that if they had to draw blood, at least they had a doctor or two with them), the debate over who would donate, and then the drawing of blood from Godalming, had it used too much time? Or was the vampire already doomed, too far gone when they had realized he had returned?

"There!" The throat had worked. It was a single, convulsive movement, but the blood had been taken in. They had opted for a small amount, not even enough to fill a meager teacup, but no one wanted to risk giving the vampire too much! Helsing watched avidly as the vampire seemed to strengthen before them. The change was so small, but shattered bone fragments in the chest were now aligned, merged into whole pieces among the rent flesh, and the torn leg seemed less hesitant about its relationship with the body. A tentative squeeze by Hellsing revealed that the flesh had slightly less give, and the mark when his hand was removed was much less noticeable.

PAIN, PAIN, there was PAIN and then

Comfort. Soil. And the close, comforting, confining, safe walls of his coffin.

A grinding noise. And then darkness. Peaceful, deep, solemn, darkness, filled with equal parts hope, confusion, and worry.

And then only darkness, as the first ray of the sun speared over the horizon.


	4. Chapter 4

Yes, this is short. I didn't have a lot of time but I wanted to get something out!  
++++++++++++++++

Dawn found the party resting. The night had been almost entirely devoid of sleep, and added to the exhaustion of the race to catch the vampire, most of them had collapsed into slumber. All but Van Helsing, who remained on watch and stared at the coffin, pondering the contents and the future.

Could the vampire be contained? What experiments could be run? Would the paste of Holy Wafer and holy water keep him from escaping as a mist? Would the silver chain wrapped about the coffin keep him from escaping? Would it have been better to wrap the silver about him?

Abraham sighed at that last thought. As terribly damaged as the Count appeared to be, he had no doubt that even placing silver in the coffin, much less wrapping it about him, would have finished the beast off. He was not even sure if the count would make it through the day. A brief memory of the soft, overly-malleable flesh came to mind, and brought a shudder to Abraham. He was almost tempted to open the coffin and check to make sure that his prey and prize was not a mere pile of ash and dust, but resisted with the cold realization that at best, he d have to seal the entire coffin again. At worst, sunlight was a known bane to vampires and while the count was obviously exceptionally resistant, in his near-death condition that pile of ash and dust might well be created. Well, he amended to himself, the worst was that the vampire would have recovered after being placed in the coffin, and opening it would get his own throat torn out and the rest of the party murdered. Or, in the case of Mina, worse than murdered.

At least they were all safe, for now, for the day, for as long as the sun was in the sky. Afterwards? He'd do his best to protect them from the beast, but it looked to be a long and difficult task. Throwing a few more pieces of wood on the fire, he sat back down to watch the coffin and think.

A few miles away, the rising smoke was being watched with interest.

Tales at the train station are always about the unusual, and unusual in this bleak corner of the world was certainly a lovely lady and her obviously wealthy male companions. Good horses, fine hats, and the unpatched, thick warm coats were noticed. Nobility, perhaps? Not staying in the city, but heading out to the mountains? A half-dozen people, and a great deal of potential wealth; a tempting prize for the vagabonds of the town. However, thieves often came to a nasty end in the mountains. There was a reason that bandits did not thrive along those empty roads, and not simply because of the poverty of the residents. Too many had disappeared, often right out of a camp, and the thieves of society stayed close to the towns. The local police were less a risk than whatever was in the night!

But so much money, and such a pretty lady? Surely they would stay on the main roads. It should not be difficult to follow along behind them, catching up, and then claim the prize. And then, return back to the city as swiftly as possible! No loitering to count the loot. Murder, take their pleasure, and then grab as they could and race back. 


	5. Chapter 5

The bandit leader cursed, showing a surprising depth of creativity and eloquence as he described what the members of the party could do with themselves. From the beginning, the leisurely trek they had thought they were prowling after had moved as if it had damnable WINGS. Clearly, these mad people would not walk if they could trot, nor trot if they could gallop! He, his brother, and the other ragtag members of the little bandit band were much farther from the safety of the city than they were comfortable with, and if they'd had to chase these bastards much farther into the mountain they'd have given up and gone back to the city. Better empty pockets and embarassment than vanishing.

Now, finally, there prey had stopped running. They were camped and it seemed they'd already encountered trouble. Perhaps someone from another town had heard of these potential plums, ripe for the plucking? In any case, not only were they constantly on watch, but they'd clearly already been in a fight and just as clearly defended themselves. Vultures still circled over the ridge behind them, but this party was very much alive and, damn them, well-armed. No noblemen playing at adventures here, they were all clearly capable of using a gun. Even that women, lovely as she was, had spent an hour carefully cleaning a lovely and deadly little pistol, then reloading it.

True, there was a coffin, and a sheet-wrapped shape next to it made it clear where one of the party members had gone. Yet it was simply too damned dangerous. Their prey had some mighty sharp teeth.

But oh, that woman was lovely. Such thick hair, when the women he was reduced to had coarse grey-shot strands in their tight greasy braids. Such a slender waist, not thick from a mutton diet and childbirth. Tiny graceful heels in those delicate little boots, and while not close enough to see all the details of her face, she was clearly fairer and smoother than the wrinkled and sunburnt visages of the crones in his town. They had a brief moment of beauty in their adolescent, then seemed to go directly from maiden to crone. But oh, this one would be a prize to savor!

In the coffin, the vampire continued his dreamless sleep. Vague sensations of jolting and jarring floated through his mind, but nothing of any permanence. Perhaps he would have awakened, even in the day, but he was so damaged that anything other than a motionless and mindless sleep was impossible. He slowly woke, too tired to try and even open his eyes, and felt his coffin snug about him. With an internal snarl, he made sense of other sensations.

He bouncing, jolting painfully up and down and about. Under and around him, the rumbling roar of the wheels on a rocky track and the persistent, annoying squeal of an ungreased axle. He could hear the panting labored breaths of the straining horses in the harness, and clattering behind the wagon bespoke other horses following close behind.

(His men! Where were his men? They were not so foolish as to rush down these treacherous trails at night! What happened? Had wolves? No, the wolves had sense.)

Listen. Listen and learn and...MINA! That racing heartbeat was too light and fast to belong to the heavy men, Mina was here! And so close, too, so close, right in the wagon beside him! A moment of longing paralyzed his mind, he was so alone, she was so close, so close!

And he was unable to move, to do more than blink an eye and glare at the lid of his coffin. So warm, so comforting, and now as much a prison as the shattered hulk of his body. But the wheels, they slowed, and stopped, and he heard with rage the teasing and cruel voice of a strange man, directed at his Mina.

(Bandits, the fools, bandits!) Normally, that was food, a playful hunt and a warm meal to quicken the long and monotonous nights of winter. Now, the noble in him raged at the thought that thieves were in his land, beside him, begging for a death, and he could not deliver! And Mina! (they will, they will, he teases, oh, that she cannot understand Romanian is a blessing and curse!)

And then Mina's voice, thick with rage, not a quiver of fear or hesitation. Had the fools been able to understand any English, or have the tiniest bit of self preservation, they would realize that their delicate doe was a caged tiger, and only waiting for the tiniest weakness in that door to kill them all! She was a fighter, that spirit, that valkyrie that lurked in her and in Lucy, it called to him, a spirit that would never surrender or admit a defeat. And those coarse, cretinous men might nevertheless end that spirit as he lay trapped.

Rage coursed through him, and he fought to move, to spring forth upon his prey and make them pay for theiving in HIS lands, for laying their laughable claim to HIS lady! And his hand twitched, rasping against the coffin, making the smallest of scratching noises. Oh, what a great hunter he was, how terrifying, reduced to a twitching hand, a rasp against wood for his battle cry instead of a horrifying and bloodthirsty snarl.

Mina's rage grew as she was pulled away from him, and he heard a muffled yelp and a sharp crack; it altogether sounded as though she'd gotten a bit of her own on one of the bastards and he hoped that she was the giver and not the receiver of the subsequent slap! What ferocity! Around him, he could hear a ripping sound, and thuds as the other bandits searched through the wagon for loot. His mind held a grim smile as he held a brief and fond mental image of the prim doctor's supplies strewn about the snow and rock. A longer ripping sound and then a crow of glee as the vultures tore into Quincy's remains, finding rings, a pocket watch, and his great Bowie knife.

And then the sound of chains releasing, rattling and scraping across the coffin. The fools, they intended to rob HIM too? Mina shrieked, leaving off her defense in the face of her tormentors as she clearly saw the fools preparing to open his coffin. The moon, bright on the snow, shot into the coffin as the lid was shoved off to tumble in the snow beside the wagon, blinding him briefly until a head occluded the light.

A familiar sensation (bah! I am not so injured as to not think! Focus, focus, catch the eyes, focus, all men look first at the face, for all men are but fools...) and one that resulted in a bandit looming over his prone corpse, face over his, and...eye contact.

(weak I might be, but this one's mind is weaker still. Bah!) In a blink, the dazed stare of the nosferatu sharpened, and the predatory gleam of the bandit dulled. Slowly, the vampire pushed, and slowly, the bandits arm was placed across the fangs of the vampire. Frustration, rage, almost too weak to bite, but NOW! yes, blood, a trickle, too weak to gulp, let it trickle, swallow, trickle, swallow, now a BITE, a true one. Mind held in a vise-like grip, the human could not twitch nor whimper, eyes wide in a dull helpless horror as the fangs ripped apart arteries and veins, digging across bone as the vampire now began to SUCK, painfully, horribly, at the great gash.

The other bandits were unaware that their fellow criminal was rapidly losing his life. The bandit leader smiled at his woman, her lovely hair hanging loose, face attractively flushed by that red welt across her cheek. Her lip might be split, her arm bruising, but still she snarled at him, furious and unbroken.

He smiled, such a treasure, beauty and a great spirit, such fun to break, and not something to be rushed. She was a gift of such quality. Of course, he would have to share her with the others afterwards, but for now, now, he tooks his time. With a smile, he dangled a strip of cloth in front of her, torn from the bodice of her own gown, and smiled sweetly at her. Her arms had been pinned behind her by the second-in-command, a great bulk of a man with an evil smile and biceps won by his failed apprenticeship at the blacksmith's forge. Her struggles and jerks didn't even budge his arms, as the bandit slipped behind her and looped the fabric about her arms.

His breath blew cold and rank across her ear, and he pressed his chest against her back in a mock loverly embrace, wrapping his arms about her as he detailed how he would take her.

It was too bad, he mused, that the silly bitch could not understand him. He would have loved to see the terror light in her eyes as he detailed the depravity that would be inflicted on her. At least the second could understand, and the look in his eyes showed a surprised respect. That brute had no creativity, but at least the wit to appreciate it when a master displayed such thought!

Behind them, the corpse of the luckless thief vanished into the coffin.

* 


	6. Chapter 6: Helsing's thoughts

*Please excuse typos and spelling errors in previous chapters. If I take too much time to proofread as writing, I'll never get the stories up. I figured y'all would appreciate a new chapter more than a perfect chapter! When done, I'll go back and do a bit of clean-up. I'll add a MUCH longer chapter in the next few days, comprising Mina's "escape" from bandits and Dracula's careful stalking of the camp.*

Van Helsing cursed, furious at himself, furious at the bandits, and with a thousand dire endings racing through his heads. The bandits had waited until horses were saddled and the wagon loaded, with Mina handling the reins and the vampire's coffin securly chained and bolted in the wagon bed.

Then they struck, springing from behind trees and bushes to grab bridles, spooking horses into running and thrusting Mina into the wagon bed. Within minutes, the camp was empty of horses, wagon, and Mina, with the men furiously shouting at the fleeing bandits on horseback. It was a clever trick, thought Abraham in a rueful fury. With even the guns secured to saddles, ready to leave, they were limited to the pistols and silver bullets, and Abraham was saving those for a much worse foe.

Checking the camp revealed another layer of bruises and a nasty welt from a hoof, but no serious damage. Weapons were two pistols, only one of which had any bullets other than silver. Even Quincy's great knife was gone with his body, and nothing more than pocketknives were found among them. 


	7. Chapter 7 : Recovery

recovery

With the fresh blood in him, Dracula's recovery was terrifyingly quick. The blood rushed through him, screaming at him that he was hungry, to attack, and all the discordant voices in his head joined together to shout at him to attack, to rend, to kill, to take out their own pain and rage on new victims.

Dracula obeyed, no longer fighting the insanity, not with the taste of fresh blood on his lips and rage at Mina's treatment screaming through him. He erupted out of the casket, a hell demon bent on rampage, and within moments the white snow was painted red.

xxx

Mina watched in horror as a glowing-eyed monster crept out of the Count's coffin. This was not the man she had known, but the monster inside. He laughed with glee as he ripped off heads, an insane grin plastered on his face as he played a brief cat-and-mouse game with another victim before ripping out their throat. He went throught the small troop of bandits like a whirlwind of death, tearing and rending his way through the camp. The last bandit he took was the leader, who stood motionless in shock as he watched his followers' destruction.

From the hopeless, shocked look on the bandit leader's face, Mina knew that he knew what was happening. There was a reason that bandits out in the mountains vanished, and he was witnessing that reason in all its bloody horror. The vampire dropped the last bandit and began stalking the leader slowly, creeping across the ground after his prey. The man shook off his paralysis to run, only to have the vampire leap at him, one long arm swiping at the man's legs. With a sickening crunch, the knee twisted and the bandit spun to the ground. The vampire crouched, watching gleefully, as the man levered himself up and lunged away, dragging the useless leg behind him. Dracula grinned, watching the man's desperate attempt to escape, then playfully swatted his remaining leg. The vampire cackled mirthfully as the man screamed, grabbing at the rocks and trees with bare hands, pulling himself along and away towards a nonexistent refuge. Tired of the game, the vampire pounced on his prey, rolling the man over and smiling his mad, crazed grin into his victim's face before leaning to rip out his throat.

Hearing the gulping, sucking sounds of the vampire feeding, Mina took advantage of this distraction to untie the wagon's horses. The remaining horses had broken loose and fled during the carnage, and the wagon's team was coated in sweat, stamping and switching tails and screaming in fear. Mina grabbed a bridle, fought the team to face back towards the hunter's camp, scrambled into the seat, and began desperately trying to free the knot holding the reins tight to the wagon.

But she was stopped, as icy hands gripped her arms and wrenched the reins from her hands. His cold hands released her arms to grab her body and the points of his sharp teeth pierced the skin at the base of her neck...and then stopped. His entire body, pressed across her as they sprawled on the wagon seat, froze. The horses continued to buck and scream, straining against the tight reins, fighting to flee.

But the vampire...did...nothing.

xxx

Lost in the joy and glee of a hunt, his body screaming for blood and more blood, voices in his head rejoicing in the slaughter, Dracula ripped through the humans about him. One, he recognized vaguely as a special victim, and took a few minutes to prolong his death. Playing with his food had always been a favorite. As he drank the last bits of blood from the corpse, he could hear the final human trying to escape. Smarter, this one, taking advantage of the speed of horses to escape, but still no match for him.

With a grin, he dropped the body of his last victim and leapt into the air, landing lightly on the seat by his final victim. His fangs touched her neck (her?) and he took a deep breath to enjoy the scent of terror and fear and (Mina?) began to

Mina?

MINA!

In shock at what he had nearly done, the vampire jerked himself back into awareness, quelling the screaming voices inside with his rage. He had nearly killed Mina with them goading him onwards. Furious with them and himself, in shock at his near destruction of the only person that meant anything to him, now that his family (his brides!) were gone... He gasped, fleeing away from the wagon and retreating to the trees while he calmed himself, reassured himself that Mina was unharmed, that he had not completely lost himself to the voices.

But it was close, so close.

He curled up against a tree, gasping needlessly, and forcing his iron will against the torrent of voices racing through this thoughts.

***** 


	8. Chapter 8 : Reunited

*yes, an update, finally! Please review, let me know if you have any questions you want clarified or see any weak points in the plot. Just an "I liked it" or "Too wordy" is greatly appreciated!*

reunited

Mina gripped the reins tightly as the team pounded through the night, dragging the wagon behind them as the fled the bloody horror of the bandit camp. The trail, at least, was easily recognizable, and she had already traveled it twice in the last few days; once as hunter, and once as trophy. She refused to think back on what she had seen, but her mind raced through the images.

The vampire, slowly raising himself from the coffin, his feet finding purchase in the soil inside, then flinging himself at the nearest bandit. Her mind echoed with the shrieks and rending of flesh, and she shuddered as the memory of cold hands and mad eyes and the nearness of her own death surfaced.

She fought to control the horses, and to think. The bandits had struck in late afternoon, grabbing as they could and racing back toward the town. At nightfall, they had ceased fleeing and made a camp. She suspected that she was many miles, ten, perhaps fifteen, from the Johnathan and the rest of her group. Going back over the brief glimpses she'd had during the bandit attack, Mina hoped fervently that the others were only lightly injured. She had seen no one stabbed, no bullets had been fired, just a quick grab-and-run, for which she was impossibly grateful.

But now it was night. The wagon, nearly empty except for the coffin chained inside, clattered down the road. Mina squinted. Up ahead, there seemed to be a small, glowing spark. No, more than one. Was this John, Abraham, Johnathan, and Arthur? The horses, tired out, ceased their fighting and continued on at a walk. And that was how she met the others.

Abraham was the first to realize that the wagon was returning. His ears had picked up the faint creaking and the hoofbeats minutes ago, but he was hesitant to say anything. The mountains had a bad trick of echoing sounds, magnifying small noises and causing far-away events so sound frighteningly close. However, the sounds continued, no longer intermittent but steady, and he stopped the party.

"Torches out. Someone comes. Quickly, divide, we will ambush." Terse, but sufficienct. The men quickly rolled their torches in the snow, then moved behind trees, rocks, and bushes to watch the road. They waited, and waited, the wagon sound not growing louder nor softer, and then suddenly there it was.

And Mina was driving.

A tearful reunion ensued. Then men were carrying all that had been left at the camp, which was very little. Their supplies, blankets, and more had been lost with the horses and the wagon. It was decided in a very matter-of-fact way that their best hope was to return to the bandit's camp. There were likely to be weapons there, as well as their supplies. If the vampire (who, according to Mina, seemed to be fully recovered) attacked, they had a better chance of defending themselves there.

As they sat in the wagon behind the exhausted, plodding horses, the group discussed what had occured and the unexpected, bizarre behavior of the Count.

Abraham's grim conclusion was the that Count was simply playing with them, and that Mina was only alive so that she could watch all that she cared for die before being taken as a "replacement" by the vampire. He refrained from sharing this with the others, for they needed all the hope they could muster.

Abraham himself did not expect to see the sun rise. 


	9. Chapter 9 : Not a real chapter YET

Rather than try and get long chapters up for this, I'm going to do what I did with Unpredictable. Expect short chapters to come up fairly regularly, and once they've been up a few days I'll sort them into chronological order. I haven't written this because I haven't wanted to spend that much time sitting (I rarely spend more than 20 minutes on a chapter). Short chapters will let me get this updated.

So, I'm reviving this story. :) Busy weekend, but expect updates next week! 


	10. Chapter 10 : Frozen

Dracula slumped in the trees as Mina urged the horses away. When even the faintest wagon rattle was no longer audible, he levered himself to his feet and walked slowly out into the bloody clearing.

(alone alone you're alone alone!) Dracula ignored the singing voices, letting them begin shrieking and still fighting to block them out. Mina was definitely alive, and from what he had heard and seen he strongly suspected the rest of the party was alive, or at least most of them. He wanted them to stay that way, too. With this in mind, he spent some time absorbing a few large patches of the blood in the clearing, and then left to find the horses. It was likely the humans would seek out his castle, but they would need horses and supplies to survive in the winter mountains.

He wanted nothing more than to be with them, not alone, alone, in the icy night. Mina's look of fright stopped him from finding them immediately. They'd be too frightened or would be trying to kill him. And that was not what he wanted, at all. He wasn't sure what he did want, but he alone...no. He did not want to be alone.

First things first. Find their horses, bring the humans the supplies their fragile mortal frames needed to survive. If he needed to, he could call the weather and trap them in the mountains while he decided what to do with them.

It was slow work, frustratingly slow. The feast of blood had put him back together, but he felt...disconnected, as though his parts were merely associated with each other rather than solidly connected. The healing was merely superficial. He'd never been so badly wounded since his death, never, and the trembling weakness he was experiencing bouts of and the fatigue frightened him. As the night wore on, he felt better, stronger, but still weak. It gave him some confidence though that this was only a passing phase, and that he would recover given time and his coffin.

He hoped, sincerely hoped, that they had not damaged his coffin. It was fundamental to his health, a source of rest and peace, and the thought that it could be at risk pushed him to leave everything and rush off after the humans. No, he could not meet with them, not yet. With a quiet groan, he continued his work.

The horses had scattered but in the nature of herd animals, had rejoined into two small groups. Neither had gone far, no more than a mile or so. The afternoon of racing away had tired them out and they had not been fed, either, leaving them weak and willing to follow him with a few gentle words and a pat on the neck. Within an hour, they were back at the bandit's camp, tack removed and grain from the saddle bags laid out for them. The supplies were next, stacked carefully near the center of the clearing to keep the scavenging creatures of the mountains away from them. It was tiring, unexpectedly and frighteningly so, and Dracula found himself scooping the bloody snow up, eating mouthfuls of the red-drenched chilly substance to feed himself.

At that point, he returned to the bodies. He'd gorged on the easily-accessible blood, but he clearly needed more. Each corpse was already drained, most of the blood congealed and unobtainable, and he found himself ripping apart ribcages to remove and drain the hearts and great vessels of the body. The horses were spooking, pulling at their leads as the scent of blood reached them, and with a groan he pulled the bodies away from the clearing and downwind before finishing his meals. The bodies were lukewarm, the blood barely warming him. And cold, he was so cold. Cold should not affect him. But still, his blood moved sluggishly as he worked, joints stiffening in the bitter chill. Damn those men, to be so injured, so desperate as to be scavenging on dead bodies.

Fire. He hadn't built a fire in centuries, had never needed one. But a fire, it would be needed. A few dead trees had been spotted while catching the horses, and with vampiric strength they were easy enough to break off and bring back. The matches were found in the supplies after a brief search. It took time for him to remember, with his cold-mazed, exhausted mind, how to begin a fire but soon enough it was flickering away in front of him. The vampire sat as close as he could without scorching, basking in the flames. When warm, he would be able to load the horses, then begin the slow and cold journey to his castle. But for now...there was heat, and his frozen body soaked it up gratefully. As the heat warmed him, chasing that painful freeze away from his joints and extremities, he found himself relaxing, almost dozing, so tired, so very tired.

So tired that he didn't hear the return of the humans until they were only a few hundred yards away, the rattle of the wagon finally piercing his fatigue-clouded mind. With a start, he staggered upright, hurrying to the trees and their concealment before the humans could see him. 


	11. Chapter 11 : Seen

*yes, I'm updating, finally :) Hope you're enjoying! Reviews are always appreciated, they're what got me to pull this up and start putting up new chapters tonight!*

Seen

When Mina had seen the flickering flames, Abraham had pulled the wagon to a halt. They expected that a bandit or two must have lived, and both pistols were taken out and the few non-silver bullets split between them. Abraham and Mina, the two best shots of the group, had left the rest of the party to creep up on bandits. Instead of several, they saw only one person, back to them, clothes tattered and blood stained. He was hunched over by the fire, shivering so violently in the cold that they could see him shaking. Several minutes passed, and no one else showed.

With a nudge, Abraham pointed out the horses to Mina, and the small pile of their supplies. After carefully scanning the clearing, they backed off quietly to rejoin the others.

"A single man, possibly a victim and not a bandit," was Abraham's terse report. "The bodies are gone, I assume the vampire was responsible for that. It's puzzling. The horses have either returned or been caught as well, and one person is by the fire." Abraham frowned at this. "It doesn't seem to be a setup or ambush. It might be a lone survivor of the vampire's attack, or the blood could be from moving bodies. Whoever it is, they're hypothermic, I suspect they either found or lit that fire with little time to spare, judging by how badly they are shivering."

There was a brief discussion about what to do, but the weary consensus was to simply continue to the camp, weapons ready, and see how they were greeted when they arrived. If it was a bandit, no one was ready to shoot him from behind; outnumbered as he was, it would not be overly difficult to apprehend him and then take him to the town for the law to punish. If it was not a bandit, unlikely in these desolate and uninhabited lands, then they would not have the blood of an innocent on their hands. If the bandit left...well, no one had the heart anymore to chase after a single man through the bitter cold night and the snow-covered mountains. If he left the fire, the land itself would kill him for them.

As the tired horses plodded closer, the fire became brighter and the shape of the man, unmoving, was visible through the last few trees and bushes. The wagon rounded the last bit of the road, and in the glow of the firelight they saw the man's head snap up. To their surprise, he fled, staggering off into the trees, no coat, no cloak.

"Bandit." Pronounced Abraham in a tired and worn voice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Count watched from the trees as the men prepared a camp. Dawn was less than an hour away, and his anxious eyes kept straying back to the wagon. The team was led away by Mina to the other horses, and she and Arthur spent a long time rubbing them down. Abraham and the other two men (Men! Men! clammered the voices in this head, and the vampire found himself grinning) were busy unrolling bedrolls and digging through supplies to start a small pot of some sort of stew. Always, always, someone was on or near the wagon, and now armed, too. With a wince at the thought of their silver bullets, the vampire drew back into the shelter of a small clump of evergreen bushes.

He NEEDED his coffin. The sun was coming up, and he was still cold, although his blood no longer felt like ice in his veins. He felt so old, so tattered, so worn, and today the sun would be far more than a mere unpleasant nuisance. With a quiet whimper to himself, he began working around the clearing to the side closest to his coffin, a wary eye on the humans.

His silent creeping was no longer so silent. Stiff, off-balance, dizzy with fatigue, he found himself stumbling slightly, the occasional branch breaking underfoot. The crackling flames hid that sound from the party, but he worried. A few more logs were tossed on the fire, and to his surprise he found himself seen in the increased light.

He had no warning, just a shocking painful burn across his shoulders and the sharp retort of a pistol. His instincts threw him forward, away from the danger, but his stiff limbs and foggy eyes turned that into a graceless lurch. More sharp cracks, and his right leg turned into fire below his knee. Gasping, he twisted, staggering to put trees between him and the humans, fleeing as they grabbed weapons and began their pursuit.  



	12. Chapter 12 : Elude

Staggering away, Dracula noticed the torn-up ground and the blood. This was the way he had dragged the bodies. With gratitude, he realized that the footprints and blood stains already present would help hide his trail. Glancing about desperately, he saw a fallen log to the side of the trail, several feet away, and threw himself over it. Normally such a leap would have been so easy, so effortless, but this time it brought screaming pain in his leg, and took all that he had.

He made it, though, falling in the snow behind it, the dusting of snow on top of the log undisturbed. The trunk was just barely tall enough to hide him from the humans in the dim winter light, and he waited, trembling from reaction, as he heard them race by. They'd grabbed a pair of torches and the shaky light danced on the snow capping the log as the humans passed him by, unnoticed.

Relief. Such relief. (hunt! hunt! the voices urged, seeing running humans and bringing a bloody thirst again). He pushed himself up, limping and staggering quickly through the trees to the clearing. He could hear the scream and the uproar as they stumbled onto the dismembered corpses strewn about, so close, so close, and with fumbling hands he fought to release the coffin.

It was heavy, so heavy, so hard to move, but desperation and the pinking of the sky pushed him to his limits. Pulling it onto his back, he moved away, staggering off down the trail, hoping that the repeated passage of horses and trampled snow would hide his own limping footprints. A few hundred yards down the road, it crossed a small stream, frozen solid. With a whimper, sun rising over the trees, he half-leaped, half-fell from the bridge onto the ice, shoving and scraping the coffin across the surface. It barely fit under the bridge, just enough clearance to pull the lid off and crawl inside. The sun blazed through the trees, down the clear length of the streambed, and struck him with the force of a furnace. Blinded, face and hands blistering, great welts rising through the shredded remains of his clothes, he struggled into the coffin, sliding the lid over him.

Cool, quiet...peace. The comfort of his soil, the ancient and dry taste of his sanctuary in his mouth. Racked with pain from the burns and the silver, the vampire twitched and shuddered, whimpering softly until he was finally able to sleep and heal. 


	13. Chapter 13 : Resume

*I've opted for short chapters, rather than long ones with long gaps between updates. So far, they've stayed in order. We're heading to the scene where Abraham stakes him again, so bear with :)*

Resume

Abraham found the energy to swear. The vampire was gone. GONE. There was no sign of him, no tracks, and the rising wind blew the snow about. He'd gotten to his coffin, too, taking it and making good his escape.

Damn, damn, and damn again.

Everyone was safe, all but poor Quincy. The vampire hadn't hurt Mina, had fled rather than attack. From what he had seen when the vampire, for that was who it had been, had crouched by the fire, he was clearly in poor condition despite eating the bandits. And that had been a gorey discovery, ribs cracked open, arms and legs ripped apart. There was no spray of blood, the men had been dead, but the vampire had thoroughly desecrated their bodies, the evil, loathesome creature.

The camp was a mystery. Abraham stared about, brow furrowed. Why had the vampire caught the horses? Had a bandit done so, then been killed by the vampire? No, a bandit would have taken a mount and fled, not stayed to tether and feed the animals. Their equipment was damaged, but all of it present and accounted for, and all of it gathered together. What the devil was the vampire up to? What schemes were tumbling through its mind?

Arthur was cursing quietly, furious that he had given any blood to that monster, and Abraham shushed him.

"Had you not done so, Arthur, we would be on foot, freezing, at the mercy of the wolves while Mina was left to the mercy of those beasts." Frowning, Abraham puzzled again over the enigma of the vampire. "He killed the bandits, and left Mina alive. That would not have been possible without your blood, so let's hear no more of this foolishness. I for one am glad that you nourished him, for it now means we are all alive." Heartened, the small troupe gathered around him. "We are armed, we are healthy. We have all that we started off with. His castle is still barred to him, his wives still destroyed. He has only his coffin, and is weak and fleeing."

Raising his head, expression stern and strong, he continued, "We came here to destroy him, and that possibility still exists. It is strong, in fact. He is alone, weak, and we are together, strong, and know how to hunt." With a slight smile, "Today, we rest, and tonight. The horses are ready to founder, and we are not much better. I would like to look for tracks, but after the sun is up and bright and we have rested. Tomorrow, we begin our hunt."

Reassured, encouraged, and with new resolution, the small party settled down to rest. Stew was distributed, slightly scorched but still hot and filling, and then bedrolls were arranged. There was still enough wood-it appeared two entire trees, albeit small ones, had been dragged to the fire-that no one needed to find more and the fire was built to a warm, crackling height that brought more strength to each of their hearts. They rested, preparing themselves to do battle once more.

Under the bridge, the Count stirred restlessly, the cold and the pain disturbing his sleep and sapping away at the strength he was slowly recovering. 


	14. Chapter 14 : Regroup

Regroup

Evening fell, stretching across the clearing where the hunters ate, stretched, and dressed their minor injuries. The horses munched quietly on their grain, and the steady thunk of a small handaxe on wood indicated that more firewood was on its way. A pot of stew hung bubbling over the fire, a dented and lidless teakettle brewing beside it. Were it not for the lifeless white-wrapped body of Quincy, the scene would have been almost cheery, but his solemn silent presence put a sobering pall on the camp. Still, it was a purposeful camp, organized and radiating a kind of quiet strength.

Evening fell, stretching across a wide, flat bridge of weathered pine. Under the bridge, red eyes blinked awake, waiting for full darkness to emerge. What crawled out from the shelter of a coffin was a scorched man-like figure, but the fangs that glittered as it hissed toward the distant firelight were distinctly inhuman. Weak and weary, the tattered creature heaved, pulling the bulky coffin from under the bridge, and settling it on his back before moving slowly down the road in the dark.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Alucard hurt. His chest had healed, firm and solid again, and his bones and muscles no longer felt so very disconnected. All the deep wounds and damages were gone, healed by the blood and the slumber in his shelter. The burns from the sun had only faded, not healed, not entirely. His hands were blistered, flesh peeling away from the tops of some of his fingers. His eyes were still dazzled by the sun, dim and clouded rather than sharp, seeing forms more than the crisp clear objects he wanted and needed. His face hurt, burned, tender, and as his clothes shifted about with movement they brushed against hot burning blisters on his body.

With the blisters came the cold. He was not so affected by it now, not with a day of rest and healing and a feast before it, but it still ate into him. Fingers that weren't burning from the pain of the sun were aching with the pain of the cold, slowly stiffening and freezing. Knees, too, complained, creaking and protesting as he forced them to move. The steady movement warmed his extremities, the movement of his body forcing blood along his vessels out to his limbs, but also returning that chilled blood to his core. With no heart, it was a slow, sluggish process but he could feel the cold eating away at him even as his skin burned.

A goal, though, he had a goal. A few miles, only a few miles away, was a great cemetary where the residents of his castle had been buried for centuries. The ground there would welcome him, he could rest, and then call a storm. If he could drive the humans to seek shelter in his castle, then he could deal with them at his leisure. The castle was sealed to him, for now, but their supplies of Host were limited and the appetites of mice and rats were not. Soon it would be opened to him, he had only to wait a bit.

He hissed, the voices inside him encouraging him to rage and fury. He had been set back, but he would have his Mina, or someone, and he would not be alone! Perhaps take Mina and make the rest of them into ghouls? Keep them in the cellars, harvesting their blood a mouthful at a time over months until they finally passed?

Such thoughts kept him occupied and focused, as he staggered down the road to the cemetary, seeking a dark crypt for a sanctuary.

The wind had died down after nightfall.

Behind him on the road stretched crisp tracks, gleaming clearly in the moonlight. 


	15. Chapter 16 : Found

*As requested, I filled in the time between Dracula's fleeing and the staking... Thanks again for the wonderful reviews!*

Found

It was time for the hunt.

The previous day, it had been decided to track back towards the castle. With the amount of travel on the road, it was possible that the vampire had returned down that path and its tracks were hidden by the tumbled mess of trampled snow. The horses were tied in a line behind the wagon, Mina driving, and the men armed and walking, keeping a close eye out for an indication that the vampire had passed that way. It was the most logical route; back towards the castle, along a trampled roadway. Also, they had found no tracks leaving the campsite area, nothing but the short bit of tracks from the vampire when they had discovered him, and the bodies. Older tracks from the horses answered the question of how they had been returned; the prints, even filling with snow, were the vampire's.

Why was still a mystery, and one that nagged incessantly at Abraham as they trod along the rough roadway.

It did not take long for Arthur to find the vampire's hiding place for the previous day, and it sent a cold chill up everyone's spines as they saw the scraped snow and the cleared area under the bridge. He'd been so close, so very close to them. It also heartened them; the vampire might still be close, he was clearly injured and had been forced to hole up for a day already.

By late morning, the clear, crisp footprints of a single traveler began to appear on the road. They never stopped, the person never took a rest, but they wavered, occasionally a foot dragging or a stumble showing clearly in the smudging of the trail. A few drag lines indicated that something had been pulled along the ground.

"The edge of his coffin." Abraham pointed this out to them, a pleased look in his eyes. "He's having trouble carrying it, it keeps touching the ground and scraping. He's still weak, we still have a very good chance of catching him." The physical evidence that the vampire was still damaged, still huntable, encouraged them all, putting new life into their steps. With the trail so clear, the horses were mounted and the pace of the hunt increased.

The vampire had moved faster than expected, despite his injuries, and a blowing wind began to scour his trail away. The troop paused for a brief lunch of bread and cheese, eaten in the saddle, racing against the wind to find the vampire. When the trail had finally blown away, they were facing an extensive cemetary.

No disturbed snow or dirt marred the pristine white landscape, Abraham noted with relief. The vampire had likely not buried his coffin, then. Tethering the horses to a few monuments, the humans took their weapons and began searching the crypts. The sun set early in the winter, and the mountains brought it even earlier, so it was with a sense of urgency that locks were destroyed with the axe, doors kicked in, and crypts searched. As the sun set, the vampire's lair was found. A small, mean crypt, low and plain, nearly invisible among the larger and gaudier resting places. A look inside revealed fresh snow and the coffin.

Rushing now, the coffin was pulled from the crypt, and as the sun set, the lid was lifted and Abraham raised his stake.

(I'm not going to describe this scene because I simply haven't had time to watch the anime and hate getting things wrong. Essentially, he stakes the vampire, tells him that his kingdom is no more and he will never have Mina, then stakes him a second time. If I get a chance to watch the movies soon I may well "fix" this scene!) 


	16. Chapter 15 : Destruction

*No, this isn't the last chapter in this section. It's short, but I think it works. Thanks again to all that have given encouraging reviews for the stories!*

Destruction

Over, it was all over.

Above him loomed the angry and stern form of Abraham, speaking loudly and with a restrained fury. Gathered about him in the barren cemetary were the people he had hunted, turned successful hunters again.

He was so weak, so tired, so cold. This time, there would be no recovery from the death they would bring him. Maybe it was for the best. Everything that brought meaning to him was gone. All that he had worked for, his lands, his family, his servants, his pride, all gone.

Gone.

The stake was hammered into him a final time, and the world went black.

Frozen.

Still.

The voices suddenly erupted into screams. If he took the power they offered, he was not defeated. He had sampled their powers many times, and they lured him with the screams of the humans as they fell, the glory of the blood he could shed.

A choice.

A slow passage into death, or blood and glory and insanity?

It was while he pondered this choice that the vampire slipped into unconsciousness, surrounded by his enemies in the snow field of the graveyards of those who had already been welcomed by a final death. 


	17. Chapter 17 : Prisoner

*Ch 15 is new, and the previous 15 is now 16. Sorry, but I wanted to fill in that short time frame and had a request, which really spurred me to do so. Thanks again for all the feedback, it makes writing so much more fun when I know it's appreciated and enjoyed! And yes, these go up fast...I type quickly and do very little proofreading afterwards, which means fast updates if I can get an idea and the time to put it down!*

Prisoner

The vampire lay quiescent, stake protruding through his back and piercing the snow with several bloodstained inches. He looked terrible; his face was burned and peeling, black skin flaked from his hands, his bones pressing against his skin far too much, body far too thin. The blood on his chest covered much of his skin but even so a few red welts were visible. Abraham suspected that it was the sun that caused those, somewhat pleased that they'd kept the vampire from his sanctuary until nearly too late.

Johnathan Harker approached quietly, a look of pure hate and loathing in his eyes and the great Bowie knife clenched in his fist.

"No, we can't." At Johnathan's aghast expression, Abraham elaborated, tired and yet relieved. The monster was stopped, but now the true work would begin. "If he turns to ash, he's likely to simply show up again in a day or so and lead us on another unpleasant hunt. And we might not be so lucky again, not if he's had the opportunity to learn more about how we think and how we will hunt him." And Abraham did not want to do this again, did not want another night spent cold and worried, hearing the monster in every creaking limb and nocturnal noise.

They all stood there, the remaining five members of the half-dozen who had hunted the beast, staring at its prone form. The eyes remained closed, the body unmoving. After a few more moments in which they appreciated that they were done, that they would, for now, have safety, it was time to seal the monster. With a lack of ceremony and respect, the vampire's body was dropped into the coffin, stake shoved a few bloody, shining inches back out of the chest but still firmly and gorily planted. Silver chains looped about the coffin, but their supply of Host was very small, and Abraham intended to use it for a different purpose.

He hoped that the stake, made of yew, and the silver would hold the beast for now. It was so still that he thought, perhaps, it was succesfully neutralized.

Early though it was, camp was struck at the edge of the cemetary. At least two people would be on watch throughout the night, meaning an early camp was a must or they would be too short on sleep to react should the vampire attempt an escape.

All was quiet. Overhead, the stars wheeled about as Abraham smoked a quiet pipe with the last of his tobacco, musing over the vampire and the enigma it represented.

They were all alive, all but Quincy, and he had fallen to the bandits. Their horses had been gathered and cared for, Mina allowed to escape, even their meager belongings safeguarded. The fire may have been intended for the vampire's benefit, but the sheer amount of wood it had gathered for a single fire was surprising. Even the clearing had been cleaned, with nowhere near the blood and gore he had expected from Mina's description, and the bodies taken a ways from the clearing.

It was a mystery he might never know the answer to. Then again, if he could find some way to contain the vampire without keeping it insensible, maybe that mystery could be solved.

Tomorrow they would return to the castle and stay there for a time, while he searched through it for any knowledge, any scrap of information, that might help him contain and control the monster. 


	18. Chapter 18 : Cell

*In case anyone caught the two errors so far that I noticed...Quincy fell to the Romani, not bandits. And I've put Alucard in a few places instead of Dracula. Sorry!*

Cell

They had reached the castle by noon, the vampire silent throughout the night. Abraham's intent was to find a room to seal the vampire in, and a small windowless room was needed. One was found, and the few rotten remnants of dusty furniture removed, then replaced with the coffin and its silent prisoner.

Now the work began.

The kitchen was raided, and casks of flour found. Arthur made a paste of the flour, and then some of the Host was powdered and mixed in. The walls, ceiling, and floor were painted with a cross made of this paste, and the doorframe and door marked as well. Others in the party use knives to whittle crosses out of what wood they found, attaching these to the walls and dangling them from the ceiling. A chapel was discovered, mostly looted and empty, but there were icons and religious items that had been left behind, found in a small cupboard and tucked under the altar. The rough-hewn wooden saints and small clay platter and tattered altar cloth were also brought to the room, placed in corners. The altar cloth, itself with its raveled embroidery of the cross, had the coffin set on it. It was hoped that the proximity to the sleeping vampire would keep it dormant.

The silver chains remained, joined by sturdy ropes and cords. Bible pages were tucked under the chains, and pasted on the ends with the remaining flour mixture. Finally, they finished, unable to think of any additional precautions that they could take.

The coffin remained silent the entire time, the dreadful contents quiet.

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Once the vampire was secured, everyone in the party was able to breathe a much-needed sigh of relief.

The horses were bedded down in the stables. The Count had fine stables, and the stalls were clean and the grain bins well-stocked. The men took their time grooming the horses carefully, making up for the extended abuse they had endured. They horses were good solid stock, but not meant to be dragging wagons and carrying men at a gallop through mountains, in the bitter wintertime, night and day. The day of rest and easy pace had done them a world of good, but the warm stables would help even more.

Mina had gone to the kitchen. Fresh meat and vegetables were non-existent, but there were grains, flour, root vegetables, a few hams hanging from the ceilings, and other foods clearly meant for the Romani. While the rest of the castle might stink of mold and dust, the kitchen was one of a handful of rooms kept clean and well-used.

Abraham remained upstairs, seated outside the door to the vampire's room, watching the coffin thoughtfully and considering what should be done, and when.

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The next few days settled into a steady routine. Abraham had found and cleared a room and settled down at the large table, turning it into a sort of makeshift office. Two people kept watch on the vampire, and the others sorted through the house, room by room, searching for books, information, anything they found that could be useful. What little scraps of information they found were brought to the office.

An old Bible, written in the language of Romania, with birth dates and deaths listed carefully, was interesting but turned out to be void of information once they had completed what translation they could. A small journal found in the Count's chambers, where Johnathan had met him, contained nothing more than notes on roads to be repaired and taxes paid, abandoned farms and food stores in the region, and other facts recorded by the Count as he managed his lands. It was surprising, they had not been aware that he had taken an interest in governing, but gave them no information that could help them in containing the vampire.

It was during their slow gleanings that the vampire awoke, a faint noise coming from his coffin and Seward leaving at a run to fetch Abraham, Johnathan standing with gun drawn and facing the now-threatening coffin. 


	19. Chapter 19 : Revive

There was pain. Not the screaming, mind-blinding agony of before, but a steady dull ache that ate away at him, and a center of pure pain in his chest.

Staked, he remembered, they had staked him. But...he was intact? Mind dazed, he picked a mental path through the rambling and bloodthirsty voices, trying to piece together what had happened, what was occuring. His coffin, he was there, he could feel the grave dirt under him, helping hold him together, could smell the musty, dusty scent of the old dry wood.

Where was he?

No light, nothing to see but the dry boards above him when he was able to crack an eye open and peer about. No movement, his body felt impossibly heavy, so heavy he was surprised the surface he was on was not breaking with the weight. But sound? He listened, past the clamoring voices, and heard...heartbeats. Two of them?

MEN! They were here, he was not alone, not abandoned, not left locked into a crypt to slowly, slowly die. A rush of relief, quelling the voices in his head as he realized that the men must have some plan for him, for he was relatively unharmed. Tired, so tired, so hungry, his chest pierced and himself rendered immobile, but no bullet holes, no stinging scorching burn of silver, just an ache in his leg and across his shoulders. No slice in his neck, no abuse...

They had simply placed him in his coffin.

At this thought, the Count's lips pulled into a sneer. The stake had stopped him, combining with the cumulative damage and fatigue to knock him senseless, but it would not stop him for long. He was healing; slowly, yes, with no fresh blood, but healing. Soon he would be able to move that stake, leave his coffin, and take his vengeance.

A troop of pretty puppets to dine on at his leisure, and Mina as a companion.

But first, to wait and heal.

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Time passed, his body so slow, so slow to regain its strength. The heartbeats were joined by two others, then left, leaving the two new ones. One was faster than the others. Mina? He wanted to look, wanted to call her, but his revival so slow, so frustratingly slow, and as the night wore on he realized that the men were not so foolish. They had somehow weakened him, used silver or a crucifix or similar. Its proximity slowed him, with a low-level headache steadily building behind his eyes, scratching up and down his skull. He heard voices, but the pain and the confusion of his weakness kept him from picking out the words in their rough English tongue and determining meaning.

He continued to exist, trapped, hurting, and alone, with the teasing tempting sound of heartbeats so close and yet out of his oh-so-limited reach.

xxxxx

Dawn came, pulling him back down into a senseless slumber, as he raged internally at the absolute incapacitation he endured. 


	20. Chapter 20 : Opened

*Finally...it gelled ;) I might get the next chapter up tonight as well, cross your fingers! And thanks for the wonderful, positive reviews!*

Opened

His next awakening was less confused, more coherent, but the Count realized he was still weak, so weak, and possibly becoming more so. The thought that the restraints, whatever they were that the people had used, could weaken him further and prevent him ever escaping brought a sense of panic to him. He thrashed briefly, trying to break loose, to lift the lid.

All that he could accomplish was to scratch briefly at the surface before the weight of his arms caused them to fall back to his side. He began to panic, wondering if, no, certain that he'd been trapped and left to die, and unable to hear the heartbeats or voices to show that he was not alone.

A weak whimper forced its way out of his throat, the voices shrieking at him to yield.

Oh, no, no, no, no. To be trapped forever in his coffin, alone, alone, slowly rotting, no! He nearly gave in, sobbing, then voices erupted outside his coffin.

He went slack with pure relief, hearing the running footsteps and the voices. Now, now he could hear the heartbeats, and he berated himself for falling into panic before concentrating and listening closer. They had heard him, and the anger and fear in their voices reassured him that no, he was not forgotten, was not abandoned.

Hope remained.

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The five humans, two of them rubbing sleep from their eyes, gathered around the coffin, watching with expressions ranging from fury to fear to calculation. A careful inspection showed that all the chains, bible verses, and more were completely intact, although the Count was once again soundless, a silent menace.

Abraham stepped forward, rapping sharply on the lid of the coffin. "Count." His voice rang out, commanding and harsh, while four pairs of startled eyes watched him, shocked at his daring. There was a pause, then a thick, enraged snarl answered him.

"Silence. You will remain in your coffin. Eventually, I expect to release you into a larger prison, but for now, that is where you will stay." Another pause, as Abraham watched the coffin through narrowed eyes, waiting for a response. A very slight sigh, perhaps only their imagination, was the only response they received.

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The Count stared at the rough wooden lid, alternating between rage and fear. That human, to speak to him so! Another part of his mind noticed that the human was not frightened of him, and the thought of a possible Master rose briefly. But a male! No! He glared angrily at the lid, growling softly to himself. A few weak pushes convinced him that the lid was not going to move, not in the condition he was in. He was trapped, stuck here until those damned humans were foolish enough to open the coffin and gloat over their prize. He could wait, he could be patient.

Or so he thought. By the time morning brought the relief of sleep, he was restless, physically exhausted but almost unable to bear the confines of his once-welcoming coffin.

Night fell, and he reluctantly opened his eyes. Less physical pain from his wounds, he seemed to be healed, but a generalized pain was even greater than before. Whatever they had sealed him in with HURT, gnawing away at his composure. And he couldn't move, could do no more than twist about weakly. He struggled to roll on his side, if only for something to do, and found himself now staring at the faded silk lining his coffin. It was a change, but not enough. He counted the threads, slowly becoming desperate for some sort of stimulation. He wanted to curse the humans, berate them, scream at them for what he was experiencing, but did not have the energy.

He did manage a weak snarl, but it was just his luck that one of the heartbeats monitoring him belonged to Abraham. It yielded a deafening rap upon the lid of the coffin, and an angered "Silence, beast." The sound was so loud on ears that had been straining to hear heartbeats, and Dracula jerked, eyes wide. It momentarily overwhelmed the pain, but when the ringing in his ears faded he was left with a piercing headache, an escalation of the previous discomfort. He fought to ignore it, listening instead to the heartbeats and quiet conversations, trying to determine where he was and what was occuring.

He was in his castle, clearly, which he had expected and the limited conversation confirmed. And they spoke smugly of sealing the room, frustrating him further. Even if he escaped the prison of his coffin, he would still be contained, imprisoned in a bare room. He clenched his hair in his hands, frustration and pain and the beginnings of fear eating at him.

He looked forward to nightfall and an end to this pain and boredom and confusion and fear. He needed OUT, needed to hunt, needed to eat, needed to see and smell and hear something other than his coffin. Morning arrived with him stewing over his situation, trying desperately to come up with some way to escape.

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When he awoke, it was to pain. His bones themselves screamed at him, the prolonged exposure to whatever religious items his captors had procured finally having penetrated his entire body. His stomach twisted, too, so hungry, so empty. He found himself gasping slightly, using up what little energy he had in trying instinctively to ease his pain. He was so weak, and the distraction of the pain made it difficult to combat the voices. If he accepted their power, he could escape, could feast, could leave the pain behind...and lose his mind entirely. But oh, it was almost tempting now. It was not the pain, entirely, but the never-ending, slow building over of it over the past few days. It was the loss of his family, the fear and uncertainty of what would happen to him, the loneliness, and the incredible numbing boredom.

He found himself weeping, bloody tears trickling down his cheeks despite his starved state. Out, out, he needed out, he needed surcease from this pain, he needed to see, to hear, to smell! Unaware and unwillingly, he began to moan in his misery, the sound soft, and muffled by the wood around him, reflecting back on him to create an audial cocoon of misery. How long had it been? How long would it be? Days, weeks, months more? He gasped, sobbing, the pain spiking randomly at his skull, each joint feeling as though a silver spike was imbedded.

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Abraham had been called again when the soft sounds became audible to the watchers. He arrived, expecting to shush the vampire again, afraid that it was attempting to work its way free of the bindings. As he approached the coffin, scowl on his face, the sounds became clearer, though still faint. He paused, listening closer.

The beast was...crying? "Count. Silence. Sleep, you will not be released for a very long time." He emphasized this blunt statement with the impact of his palm on the lid, the loud boom echoing in the room and probably deafening to the vampire. Silence fell, and satisfied, Abraham turned to leave. As he approached the door, the keening began, a high-pitched whining wail, faint but penetrating.

He spun on his heel, angered, and stomped back over to the coffin. Damned damnable monster, why wouldn't it simply SLEEP? "SILENCE." He boomed at it, but silence was not what he got. Instead, the vampire began speaking, rambling at low volume but with a desperate speed. Romanian? Or some other language? Was it cursing them? Abraham wished it luck, with all the blessed objects and such surrounding it, he wasn't worried about a curse being effective.

He was curious, though, and bent to listen. The vampire's speech became broken by sobs, as weak as the voice had been, and a sudden, brief scrabbling at the inside of the lid. The vampire quieted again, whimpering softly, moaning. Somewhat concerned, Abraham walked back to the hallway and the watch post, sending the others away as he resumed his watch. Mina rejoined him, unwilling to leave him as a solitary sentinel, a candle in one hand and one of the Count's many texts in the other.

His anger was becoming worry. The monster was a proud creature, vain. While it was possible that it was simply trying yet another tactic to lure them to it, there was a possibility that something was wrong with it. Was it starving? Damaged by the religious icons? Had some of the Host fallen through between the lid and sides, and into the coffin with the beast? The sounds, faint and becoming farther and farther apart, seemed to support that something was wrong. The vampire was groaning, long drawn-out soft sounds of pain, with faint whimpers and cries occasionally audible.

Hours passed, and Abraham's anger had been replaced thoroughly by concern. The vampire had become almost completely silent, with not even a faint cry for most of the last hour. Was it exhausted? Had it given up its attempts to manipulate them? Was it ashes, badly damaged, what? He had to check, at least, to verify the vampire was only testing their resolve and trying a less physical and more psychological course to freedom. With the other members of the party waiting at the door, weapons drawn and focused fearfully and with determination on the coffin, he stood beside it, calming himself, then reached out to begin removing the chains and ropes holding the lid firmly in place.

As the ropes released, falling beside the coffin with a loud thump, he waited, listening, and heard...nothing. Uncertain whether this was a positive sign or not, he carefully loosened the thin silver chains, allowing them to rattle over the edge and pool upon the floor. Still no sound from their prisoner, and he began to work a bit faster, clearing the chains away. The Host-and-flour mixture sealed the outside of the coffin, and he gripped the lid, lifting slightly and seeing the precious white substance begin to flake away. One of the watchers cried out slightly as the lid moved, but only silence came from the coffin.

Pausing, he thought better of what he was doing, and motioned John to join him with his candle and pistol. With John beside him, armed and ready, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and offered a prayer to God...then shoved the lid roughly aside.

He had expected a monster to lunge out at them, but nothing happened. He peered closer, John obligingly lifting the candle higher, trying to see what waited in the coffin. A dark form, clearly not ash, was visible and as the candle lifted higher, it defined itself into a shoulder. The monster was on its side, curled up tightly, one hand open and imbedded in the silk lining, the other clenched.

It was motionless...and its hair was white...the face, even in the flickering light of a single candle, cadaverous and grey. The hands were skeletal, also a sickening pallid grey, and the only color in the monster was red on its face. "Blood for tears?" wondered Abraham, leaning over to peer closer at the beast's face. John reached out, pulling him back, and he shook the hand loose from his shoulder.

Something was wrong with the beast, so very wrong. More confident now, he reached out, grasping a hand and pushing the tattered sleeve up to view the condition of the arm. With a touch of shock, he realized that the hand, where it wasn't dry rough skin and bones, was soft. Rotten.

Had they accidentally killed the monster? But...it wasn't ash? The arm itself had the remaining flesh simply hanging off the bones, contained in skin that looked ready to tear, with a few unhealed burns visible. Setting down his cross beside the coffin, he pulled the vampire's limbs straight, hearing the faint, moist, unpleasantly rotten sounds as he did so. The side of the vampire's face that had been laying on the coffin's bottom was black, burned...

The altar cloth. The vampire had been only inches from that holy object, a piece of wood and a thin layer of dirt, and the altar cloth underlay the entire coffin, the vampire's entire body. It was too close and too much. Was the rest of the vampire as damaged? The shoulder? Yes...as he ripped the shirt apart to view it, the shoulder too was black where it had lain against the bottom of the coffin, with grey tendrils of rot and burn radiating upwards.

He motioned the others into the room, and they gathered about the coffin, looking at the vampire and his blackened face in a sort of shocked horror.

"We need to move the coffin off the altar cloth. It's too much for him to handle. I think we should take the pages off the ends as well, he's so...damaged." There was debate and argument; not surprisingly, Arthur and Johnathan were perfectly willing to let the vampire slowly die. Abraham understood their views, but he wanted to unravel the puzzle of this vampire, the prepared campsite, the clear signs of responsible governing, why Mina had been spared, and more. He was not going to give up his prize so easily, not when so much about vampires and this one in particular was unknown, not when, for the first time ever, a vampire was at the mercy of humans prepared to study it.

The argument raged on, but Mina surprisingly joined him. She pointed out that it had been her friend that had died, and her suitor, and that she had been most affected by the vampire. And if SHE was willing to let it live, then maybe they should practice some of their Christian love themselves and show mercy. She was furious, concerned for the beast, angry at the vindictive nature of the men, and her support pushed them reluctantly to Abraham's side.

He took a close look at the Count before moving the coffin, and was surprised to see that the eyes were slightly open, but dim, so dim. The Count was apparently not completely unconcious, not completely immobile, but the eyes didn't blink, didn't look about, simply watched the side of the coffin with a sort of vague resignation.

The men lifted the coffin, and Mina pulled the cloth from under it. It would be moved, laid across the doorway. The Bible pages were carefully chiseled away from the ends, kept intact, and placed on the floor some distance from the coffin. Mina left, returning with a pot of water and cloths, and the remaining paste was carefully cleaned off the ends and the rim of the coffin.

The entire time, the vampire did not stir, did not blink, remained as motionless and grisly as before. He was in such sorry condition, and Abraham was determined to feed him as well. After the earlier fuss at simply removing what was damaging the monster, he would not ask anyone else to donate, not now. As they finished cleaning off the outside of the coffin, he vanished briefly, returning with his case.

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Under the disapproving glares of the others, he poured the few teaspoons of blood into the monster's mouth. There was no sign of recovery, no change, but after a few minutes, the vampire swallowed. A dry grey tongue appeared, cleaning the traces of blood off the lips, and the dazed, dim, cloudy eyes blinked. 


	21. Chapter 21 : Damage

Blood...food...just a taste, a trickle. Fresh air...the flickering light of a candle...the scent of the hunters...

Open! It was open!

With a lunge, the Count attempted to scramble out of his coffin, uncoordinated, weak, and half-blind though he was. His upper body made it out, hanging over the edge, ribs cracking painfully as the wooden side pressed into them, and his legs jerked and shoved, pushing him out to land gracelessly in a heap beside the coffin.

Out, out, he was OUT! He hurt, so much, so weak, so hungry, but out, out, he was OUT! He was dimly aware of people shouting around him, but ignore them to glory in the feeling of cold stone under him, the noise of their voices a welcome clamor, the shifting shadows as they waved the candles in their fright a balm to his starved eyes.

A sudden sharp pain in his chest, the horrible, painful crack of a gun simultaneous with it. Confused, frightened, the Count found himself losing awareness, swallowed mercilessly and without warning by the blackness of unconciousness.

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They stood around the limp, decayed form, smoke rising from John's gun. They had all been shocked at the sudden movement of the vampire. One moment, the eyes had blinked, the tongue moved about the lips, and then the vampire had attempted an escape. "A pitiful one," mused Abraham, "destined to fail, but I suppose he had to try." The vampire had made it out of the coffin, then stopped moving, a limp tangle of bent limbs that would have been painful in a human, and then John's pistol had fired. The angle had been all wrong, and Abraham didn't know if the heart had been pierced, but the vampire had ceased to move.

It had already stopped moving before the gun fired, though. A little angry at himself for underestimating the beast the first time, Abraham moved around the coffin to inspect it more closely. The beast looked shocked, stunned, the expression frozen on its face. There was a faint, constant sizzling sound, and as Abraham watched, the skin on the beast's side blackened, stretched, and then the bullet rolled out, leaving a burnt hollow behind. The vampire did not flinch, did not move, mouth gapped open and eyes rolled back into its head.

With the others armed and watching, Abraham grabbed the vampire's upper arm, pulling on it, pulling the vampire out of its almost obscene flop and out flat onto the floor. At least that was his intention, but the arm released from the socket with a sickening soft rip, and nearly tore loose entirely. What little good the blood had accomplished had been undone by the attempted escape and the bullet.

Angry and scowling, Abraham drew more blood, glaring at the vampire as he did so. They were going to put the damn monster back in the coffin, but it wasn't moveable in the condition it was in. So a little blood, then move him.

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A taste, a trickle, blood. Warm, food, it was food...and gone too soon. Dracula swallowed the faint taste, longing for more, more blood that was not forthcoming.

What now? What would they do? Oh, it hurt, his chest, it burned, it burned, but there was cold floor under him, not dirt and silk. The air on his face was motionless, but filled with the scents of burning wax and humans, not dirt and dry wood. The sounds were angry, voices cursing at...him?...but not muffled by the wood. Compared to the previous agony and isolation, this was Heaven.

Mind waking up, the Count found humor in the situation. Injured, shot, lying sprawled on the floor of his lost castle, being cursed at by humans, starved and weak, and he considered this to be good? The humor ended quickly as strong hands gripped his limbs and his hair, lifting him without ceremony or care, and dropping him back in his coffin.

As the lid closed over him, he could have screamed, would have shrieked his frustration and fear, but his body denied him this.

Alone and trapped, body scorched and damaged, starved, the vampire spent the remainder of the night in misery.

Hope remained. They had opened the coffin once and had fed him, if only a taste. There ws still hope. 


	22. Chapter 22 : Released

*A little short, but better short than no update at all :)*

Released

At noon, they gathered around the coffin again. It had been decided that it would be best to check on the vampire while it was asleep, rather than opening the coffin at night when it was stronger and awake. Mina and Abraham stood at the edge of the coffin, weapons in hand, prepared to act if the opening of the coffin revealed something other than a sleeping monster. They were all tense, all worried, and when John and Arthur pulled the lid away with a fierce yank, the group as a collective whole jerked in an instinctive flinch.

It was incredibly anticlimactic.

The monster lay in exactly the same position as he'd been left in, utterly unresponsive to their presence. He still looked terrible; a brief inspection by Helsing showed that the entrance and exit wounds for the silver bullet were only partially filled in, and the other cumulative damage remained. The flesh was grotesquely soft and pliable, and appeared to be melting off the bones. The skin was intact, but a putrid sort of grey-green, with puffy and inflamed burn marks still present from the sun exposure several days previously. In addition, the ribs appeared caved in along a narrow line. "The edge of the coffin," pointed out Abraham, "from his attempt to escape." Abraham frowned slightly. "I'm not convinced he was actually trying to escape, merely to exit the coffin; logical when you consider the damage that was accruing from his time in it."

As the lid was returned to the coffin, Abraham continued to frown. He was worried about the vampire, which amused and concerned him. Worried for a monster? There was a temptation to feed the beast. Thinking further on this, Abraham realized it might not be a bad idea. If the monster needed sustenance at night, they ran the risk of feeding it and dealing with an active vampire. Feeding it during the day, while it was immobile, might be a much better option.

The needle slid back into the bruise on his arm, leaving yet another minor bit of damage from his care of the monster. The blood dripped slowly into the small cup, oozing out a bit faster as Abraham moved his arm. When a few tablespoons had been collected, a larger meal than previously offered to the beast, Abraham removed the needle and released the restriction around his arm. He brought the cup to the vampire, and stood over the coffin, musing briefly, unsure if what he was doing was wise or foolish, kind or careless. Under the careful and watchful eyes of the others, he tipped the thick blood onto the vampire's mouth.

It trickled in from the cup, falling into the back of its mouth, and the vampire eventually swallowed, then swallowed again. The liquid ceased to run out of the cup, leaving a bloody coating in it. Abraham prepared to remove the cup, waiting for the last few loose drops to run into the vampire's mouth, when the grey tongue extended out. Surprised, he watched, seeing the tongue tracing the edge of the cup, seeking out any remaining blood. He held the cup still, as the overly-long, dry tongue cleansed the cup of all remaining blood. It still circled about, slow and clumsy, seeking sustenance, as he pulled the cup away. As he stood, the vampire's eyes flickered open and met his own.

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Blood, it was blood, and that awoke the starving vampire. So hungry, so hurt, so hungry, hungry, and he swallowed, finding more, swallowed again. More trickled in, and then the flow ceased, far too little blood consumed. Unable to move, he reached out with his tongue, seeking the source of the food he so desperately needed. No warm body waited, but a cold slick surface, coated in blood? No matter, it was blood and it was needed, and he pulled as much of the sticky red life off the object as he could. As the blood was consumed, he searched farther, meeting only bare substance, no more blood, and then that too was pulled away.

What had happened? Fed? He'd been fed? Aware of his return to the coffin, remembering the fear of being trapped again, he fought to open his eyes. His coffin, he could feel it around him, but opened, the lid gone. Lights flickered across his lids, heartbeats thundered into his ears. What were they doing? What did they have planned? He struggled, his eyelids uncooperative, stiff, and heavy, but pulled them up to see a great form looming over him. A momentary panic, was he going to be staked again? faded as he focused, realized that Van Helsing held nothing more dangerous than a small cup. A cup? Ah, the blood. Blinking, bringing his eyes into a steadier focus, he looked up at Abraham, into the stern face and cold eyes of the man who had bested him, beaten him at the hunt, and now had him at the man's mercy, helpless to his whims. 


	23. Chapter 23 : Compassion

*Busy night tonight with the chapters :) This is probably going to be the last update for the evening, hope you enjoy!*

Compassion

Dracula appeared confused, perhaps worried, but not aggressive. Abraham stared at the monster, meeting his eyes, glaring his anger at all the problems and deaths the monster had caused. The vampire stared back, eyes slightly vague but looking more and more worried. Abraham reached across the vampire, causing the red eyes to open slightly in worry, only to grab the heavy lid and yank it, sliding it roughly across the coffin. The vampire's final expression, as the slid thunked into place, was startlement.

Abraham turned and left, leaving the chains off the lid. He was tempted to use the ropes, but curiousity also ate at him. What WOULD the vampire do when it discovered that it was not restrained? It was weak, injured, and Abraham was quite willing to use another bullet on it if it became aggressive. But for now, the vampire was too weak to do more than twitch, and it was under guard.

He sat and watched the coffin as the afternoon passed. Mina brought him a meal, spelling his watch as he took a brief break, stretching his legs and then returning to resume his study. The vampire had been silent, apparently sleeping again. The hall darkened, sun setting, and still no sound from the coffin.

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The sun had set, and Dracula blinked awake, slowly. He was back in his coffin, but the pain...was gone. He had healed. A day of rest, no torment, and a small meal. So weak, and still starving, but the pain was entirely gone, eased away by his earth and the fresh warm blood willingly given. Every bit of sustenance had gone towards his healing, and he was entirely unable to move more than a blink of the eyes and a slight twitch of fingertips. What energy he had needed to be conserved, and he simply lay silently, listening to the heartbeats and footsteps, waiting to see what would occur.

And waiting. Waiting. How much time had passed? Hours, certainly. Were they going to leave him here, only opening the coffin to feed him during the day, when he was helpless, unable to respond? Would he be left each evening to stare at the lid of his coffin? The peace and comfort of the coffin, now that he was whole, became a tight and claustrophobic trap, his still chest begining to rise and fall as he instinctively began to pant air. The stifling, still, musty air of the coffin filled his nose and lungs, compressing him, forcing him down into the bed of earth as the coffin itself constricted about him.

Too long, too long in it, he couldn't leave, couldn't exit, his safe haven a trap, and a trap that would slowly devour him for many more long nights. Unconcious of it in his confused, panicky mind, he began to whine, weakly, softly, but audible to the carefully observing and tired Van Helsing and Seward who waited in the hallway.

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"He can't get out." murmurmed Abraham, looking a bit surprised. He'd expected scrabbling, at least an attempt to move the lid, but long after the sun set the coffin remained silent and still. Now, as midnight neared, the vampire had finally begun to stir, but the only sound was a soft whining, no movement, no thrashing, nothing. Time passed, the whining increasing in pitch and desperation, but remaining so faint, so barely audible. Abraham bent his head forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was so loathe to open the coffin, but the vampire appeared to be suffering; was some other substance causing him harm? Was he slowly burning, decaying again?

A brief conversation with Seward, who was nearly as curious as he, and they found themselves standing by the coffin, armed with their pistols, stakes beside them, silver chains looped over their arms, and prepared to open the coffin. A good solid shove by John, and the lid clattered off, candlelight revealing the vampire.

He seemed unharmed, but red streaks ran down from his eyes, dried and withered as he was, and he looked...terrified? He gasped, eyes searching the ceiling in a sort of panicked relief, oblivious to the presence of the men as he took great gasps of the chill air. As Abraham and John watched, shocked and surprised, the vampire slowly calmed, breathing slowing and then ceasing, eyes relaxing partly shut. Only then did the eyes move about, and see the two men looming over the coffin.

The vampire froze, eyes stunned, startled, and fearful, but the body still entirely motionless.

"Hush now. Sleep. No need to be causing noise." Abraham spoke soothingly, and was rewarded by a vampire that focused entirely on him, seeming to relax a bit more at the gentle tone of voice. Relaxed, that is, until John shifted the lid, preparing to place it back on the coffin. The shrill screech from the coffin made both men jump, John dropping the heavy lid with a bang. Pounding footsteps in the hall announced that the others had heard the noise and were rushing to assist, but the vampire kept screaming. The screams were weak, breathless, and interspersed with moans of apparent fear.

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NO! no no no no no no! To have freedom, to see more than the rough lid, and then to have it dangled in front of him and then snatched away. The man clearly intended to trap the vampire again in his silent tomb, and Dracula panicked. No! no more! Too many days and nights already spent trapped in that tiny tiny space, no more! He tried desperately to move, to leave, but his body remained unresponsive, all he could do was try to scream his fear and anger.

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Mina and Johnathan arrived simultaneously, demanding to know what had occured. It was Seward that filled them in, finishing drily with, "He really, really does NOT want the lid on the coffin." Bemused, they stood and watched the scene. The vampire was unthreatening, according to Abraham it had not even moved, only begun to keen fearfully when the lid was going to be replaced. It simply lay there, skeletally thin, panting slightly, eyes barely half-open and entirely unfocused.

What more could be done? The room was well-sealed, with Host and crosses, the altar cloth and icons, and the vampire clearly still very, very weak. Two armed people waited at the door, with silver chains and stakes in addition to their very effective bullets. What could such a weak creature do? After seeing the terrible condition he had been in, the clear pain and torture the beast had experienced, simply leaving the lid open did not seem so terrible an idea. The chains were used to create a line of silver on the floor around the coffin, so that if the vampire managed to crawl out it would still be unable to travel far, and a watch was resumed.

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Off, the lid was off. The slightest of breezes blew across the coffin, bringing cold crisp air instead of the dry and dessicated air of his coffin. The scents of the humans floated on the air, too, the scorched warm scent of the burning candles tickling at his nose. On the ceiling, the candle flames sent shadows dancing across the room, always changing, so different from the single surface that was all his starved eyes had seen for so long. The heartbeats and breaths were audible, and now he could hear footsteps elsewhere, without the wood muffling the sounds.

No pain, just the hunger and weakness, but stimulation, finally. Not much, so little that he would normally have found it tedious and boring, but so much more, so very much more, than he'd had for so many days.

Dawn came, leaving the sleeping vampire's lips curled into the slightest of smiles. 


	24. Chapter 24 : Response

*Sorry no update yesterday, the muse was AWOL. A short one for now, perhaps more later. Thanks again for the reviews. And if you haven't been reading death-in-the-orchard's incredibly good fiction, I strongly suggest that you do. She's amazing!*

Reponse

As the sun set, the pair of red eyes opened. Not far, only slits, but open nevertheless. As Abraham and Mina watched, the eyes blinked, then stared vaguely at the ceiling. Several minutes passed, the vampire quiet, unmoving.

"Count." Mina's softer, yet still firm, voice, demanding a response that did not come. The white-haired, skeletal beast remained still, not even blinking in response to the call.

"I suspect that you were correct." Abraham's rougher voice spoke to Mina. The vampire could hear the clinking of glass and metal, the rustling of moving fabrics, the soft indrawn gasp as Mina responded to something. He didn't care...he was so hungry, but for the first time in how long? Days? he was comfortable. No pain, not trapped, and while cold he was not frozen, there was no ice in his veins only the chill plasma. There was companionship and nearby; he was not alone with his demons, not abandoned. And so he was content to simply watch the shadows dance across the ceiling and listen to the murmuring and movement of the humans with him.

And then there was blood at his lips. They were feeding him again? The surprise faded into greed, and he pulled the fluid in, swallowing it down in a greedy gulp, then another. There was no more pouring in, only a trickle, the bulk of it gone, and his eyes opened to see the bloody cup. A few more moments and his tongue had swiped it clean. The arm holding it belonged to Mina. Mina? Yes, it was her blood, he could taste it now, identify it as the rich, powerful ambrosia from her veins, and a small wrap around her elbow beckoned him with the scent of blood.

"You're injured." The voice was raspy, rough, unused, and the humans stared at him in surprise. He had been voiceless so long, that for him to find his voice again was so unexpected, seemed so strange to hear a voice coming from that limp hulk.

It took another few seconds for Mina to find her own voice again in response. "It's only a small wound, necessary to draw out the blood for you." A bit of bite in her voice. "You won't be putting your fangs in me again, after all."

The vampire forced out a wheezing chuckle, again delighted at the spark of fire in the woman. Oh, what a Master she would make. Rested and safe, no longer merely seeking survival, his thoughts had turned back towards his original goals. She was no longer prey, but a potential Master, a savior, to be courted and lured. The blood pooled warm in his stomach, slowly spreading heat out along his limbs. He was still hungry, still needed far, far more blood, but for now, it was enough. He was contented, and staying focused was more than he was able to do. Surprised, he felt himself slowly drift off, once again a slight smile curving his lips.

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Prepared to start asking questions, Abraham watched in bemusement as the beast...fell asleep.

"I would prefer not to wake him at this point." He spoke to Mina, voice low so as not to disturbe the sleeping monster. They left the room, and in the hallway, he elaborated. "He's essentially an invalid now, though functioning. He's likely to wake again later, though I have no way of estimating how long that will be. Until then, I'm going to find my own bed. When he's alert again, wake me. I'll speak with him then." Johnathan had been waiting in the hallway as his wife and friend had approached the vampire's coffin, and husband and wife sat in companionable silence as the minutes, then hours, ticked slowly by. 


	25. Chapter 25 : Puzzle

*another short chapter, but better than nothing, right? :) I'd intended a longer one but if I don't put it up now and waited until I "finished" the scene, it wouldn't be up til tomorrow. As always, thank you all for the wonderful reviews!*

Puzzle

Around midnight, the red eyes blinked open again.

"Asleep? I fell asleep?" amusement and concern at his weakness warred in the vampire, as did his willingness to relax so much in front of the people who had captured and tortured him. But he'd trusted them, there had been no fear in him, and that had combined with the hot meal and fatigue to pull him into a light nap. Why had he trusted them? "Because it was Mina." (and Abraham, insisted his conscience, such as it was). The two people he had considered (not Abraham!) as Masters, and thus he was not as on-guard around them as he should be. He was too old to be so foolish.

Time to figure out where he was, more precisely than simply "a room." Staring at a ceiling didn't offer any information. The lack of wind meant a small windowless room; the few glazed windows had long since lost their glass. And he was in his castle, but where? There was easily a dozen rooms that were small and windowless. And how where they keeping him contained?

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Slight rustlings and noises pulled the Harkers' eyes towards the coffin, and they watched as a thin white hand reached up, gripping the edge of the coffin. With a push from Mina, Johnathan raced off to wake Abraham.

A few moments later, Abraham was standing by the Harkers, wiping sleep from his eyes as they watched the vampire attempting to rise. A second white hand had joined the first, but the Count was struggling merely to rise. Finally, he surrendered to the inevitable. He'd managed to lift his head enough to peer about the room, his body pulled towards the head of the coffin and somewhat wedged into the tighter space, providing the support needed to stay relatively upright without needing to support himself. The vampire slumped gracelessly against the end of the coffin, no longer moving, but red eyes wandering about the room, observing the crosses on the walls and dangling from the ceiling, the white altar cloth in front of the doorway, and then finally resting on Mina.

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Watching the weakened creature gaze about the room, seeing how helpless it appeared, Abraham was more confident in entering the room with the creature. There was always the chance that the vampire was merely feigning great weakness, but after the trials it had experienced in the last week, Abraham doubted it. Its hair remained colorless, the body skeletal, and it was still surrounded by silver chains. The peeved look as it had taken in the sheer number of precautions they had taken was also a good indication that those precautions were goig to work. And so, time to start unraveling the puzzle this creature represented. He'd taken the time to craft a list of questions, with feedback from the others in the party, as they waited for the vampire to regain conciousness.

Time to get some answers to the puzzle the monster represented. 


	26. Chapter 26 : Interrogation

*another chapter... let's hope the muse keeps speaking!*

Interrogation

"Count." The red eyes moved from Mina to Abraham, but the monster did not respond. Abraham walked into the room, up to the silver line on the floor, and the eyes widened marginally, but the vampire remained motionless, slumped into the end of the coffin.

"Van Helsing." The voice was weak, but clear, not insulting, not frightening, not implying anything, simply acknowledgement.

"Glad to see you are feeling communicative. I've got questions for you." Ignoring the somewhat surprised and faintly amused look, Van Helsing left the room, returning moments later with a chair and tall candleabra in addition to his small doctor's bag. The vampire watched, expressionless, as Van Helsing carried the objects in and then arranged them near the coffin, seating himself in the chair once he was satisfied with their position.

"Vampire, it would be in your best interests to answer these questions. Regardless of the answers, you'll be returning to England with me when we are done in Romania. However, your answers will determine whether you are fed and allowed the freedom of your room, or locked starving in your coffin with an altar cloth draped over it." Cold blue eyes sparked at the vampire. "Your freedom is no more, and will be no more. The only control you will have in the future is how much goodwill you can inspire in your owner. You've already been starved, burned, and deprived without intent to do so; if we are deliberate in punishing you, it can be far, far worse."

The heavy threat hung in the air, and the vampire snarled his anger at the matter-of-fact warning. The snarl was weak, faint, but the rage behind it was clear.

Abraham refused to be intimidated, especially by a vampire that couldn't even sit upright. "Now that you've gotten that out of your system, let us begin. Answer well and fully, and you'll be fed a bit more before I leave. Conversely, keep up this uncooperative behavior and you'll find your sorry undead self sealed away in the coffin for a few days to think over a more appropriate response."

The vampire stared sullenly at Abraham, but no more snarling was forthcoming. Abraham tapped his fountain pen on the paper, and began his questioning. It had been decided to start with the vampire's most recent behavior, although the "why did you travel to England?" question would be asked as well. Most of the vampire's behavior was easy to unravel, but from the time he spared Mina until his capture in the cemetary, he'd been acting in a manner that contradicted their understanding of "vampiric behavior." So that was where the questions began; with his first clearly unexpected behavior.

"Mina has told me that you prepared to bite her at the bandit camp, but did not do so. Explain yourself."

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Dracula stared at the man, bemused and angered. The man sat, only a few feet from him, behind the paltry protection of a line of silver, and showed absolutely no fear. His eyes did not blink, he did not flinch, even when the sharp fangs flashed at him. Instead, he waited, demanding and EXPECTING an answer.

Had it been any human but Mina or Abraham, there would have been no cooperation. Dracula was tempted not to answer the man, but he'd already seen the cold determination the dutchman was capable of, and had no reason to doubt the proclamation that he'd be left alone to stare at the top of his coffin for the next few days.

A brief shudder went through him at this. He did NOT want to experience that, ever again. And...besides. He was curious. What would the man want to know? He had expected the human to ask about controlling him, or his abilities, and the first question had thrown him somewhat. Besides...his answers might actually bring him closer to his goals. He would answer, then, though it galled his pride to do so. 


	27. Chapter 27 : Insight

*I feel as though I'm dragging out the story line here, but as long as my readers don't seem to mind, that's what'll happen. I just have to keep coming up with new chapter titles...*

Insight

"I did not wish to kill her or to hurt her." The vampire said simply, his answer clear but not any more informative. Abraham wasn't certain if this was deliberate and the vampire was being obtuse, or if he was simply answer the question that was asked. The long delay before the Count answered made Abraham consider the first option more likely.

"Elborate. WHY did you not want to kill her or hurt her?"

The vampire paused for a bit again. "I had already fed on the bandits. I had no reason to hurt or kill her, she did not pose a threat to me."

Abraham glowered a bit. "Judging by the fact that you went back and ate the already-dead bandits later that same evening, I don't think that's the full answer. Maybe you need some time alone to think about this?"

He watched as the vampire's eyes widened a bit from the half-closed, fatigued position they had been in. Clearly, that particular barb had hit home. "I want an actual explanation, Count, and I want a truthful one. So far, that's not occurring."

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Damn the man. Damn him. He was entirely too perceptive. The Count would have to be more forthcoming, but at least the human wasn't gloating over his victory so far. What pride Dracula had left was going to take a beating, and he really was not looking forward to it.

"I was...lonely." The vampire was well aware of just how sullen he sounded, and he hated, absolutely hated, admitting such a weakness.

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Well, that was NOT the answer Van Helsing had anticipated, not at all. Lonely? A vampire? "Continue."

The vampire actually FLINCHED at that command. As he continued, he looked truly miserable.

"I did not want to be alone. I knew that my brides were dead, my castle empty. I had no one to return to, and Mina...she was...is...the only one I have any true connection with."

Mina had been watching, listening from the doorway, and chose that moment to interject. "I have refused you, Count. I have a husband of my own, and want nothing more to do with you. You will never be a part of my life, and you would do well to get that through your thick skull." Mina's rage was almost a palpable thing, filling the room, and the vampire clearly wilted further at this.

Time for a new question. "After she left, you didn't pursue her. You gathered the horses and prepared the campsite. Why?"

However, the Count was no longer paying any attention to Van Helsing. Mina had left, with Johnathan, and only Arthur waited at the door. Dracula was simply staring at the door where Mina had been, looking absolutely lost. He shifted about, lowering his body back into the coffin.

"I believe we are done, Van Helsing." The cold voice was crisp, yet still faint, and Abraham cautiously looked into the coffin to see the vampire curled up, eyes closed, and clearly ignoring his presence. Irritated, Abraham lifted the lid, preparing to close the coffin entirely, but the vampire shuddered slightly, though obviously trying to conceal the reaction.

Abraham left the lid ajar instead, allowing a few inches to remain open, then picking up the book and bag and leaving the room. He had an answer to consider, for it rather changed how he viewed the monster, and he wanted to consider its behavior in that new light. Perhaps it was just as well that the questioning had stopped so soon. 


	28. Chapter 28 : Explanations

*I really didn't think I'd get this up tonight. After all, I'd gotten the bunny slippers fluff posted... But guilt pushed me to actually put this down for the readers who've made it clear that they look forward to a nightly update! So here it is, and hopefully before you went to sleep. Enjoy! :)*

Explanations

Abraham entered the quiet, dim chamber. The vampire had not moved since it had ended the questioning last night, and though the sun had set an hour ago, there was only silence from the coffin. He suspected the vampire had simply exhausted all his stores of energy, and when he removed the lid, it appeared he was correct. The Count was in exactly the same position as the night before, eyes open to bare slits, and he did not respond in the slightest to Abraham's presence.

They were prepared for this, and Seward had been the night's donor. Abraham bent over the inert vampire, dribbling a bit of blood on its lips and watching, pleased, as the tongue extended, consuming the little bit that had been given. After a few moments, the eyes blinked open further, focusing on Abraham.

"Well, vampire, are you ready for a few more questions tonight? There is more blood for you, if you cooperate." Abraham held the cup in front of the vampire, and watched the nostrils flare as the beast took in the scent of the warm blood."

"Ask your questions, damn you." The voice was so faint, Abraham had to strain to hear it, but at least the beast was cooperating.

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The questioning continued, and the monster seemed...resigned. Van Helsing wasn't certain if his listlessness and disinterest was simply due to starvation, or if the vampire was still upset after the night before. Its reaction to Mina's strident refusal had been surprising, and Abraham had expected a great deal more difficulty in obtaining its cooperation tonight. Yet the vampire was answering...not fully, and often needing prodding, but answering nonetheless.

"I had planned to bring the horses and supplies to the castle. I did not expect you to come to me instead."

"But WHY did you plant to bring them to us?"

A faint look of scorn. "Humans are weak. Your warm clothing, your food supplies, weapons, you need them. I did not spare Mina simply to lose her to exposure or exhaustion."

Abraham supposed that made sense, but still...the vampire had gathered ALL the horses, ALL the supplies, not merely what Mina had needed. And why had the campsite been so...prepared? "You also hauled off the dead bodies and cleaned up the blood, leaving a clean site with plenty of firewood. Why." It was a demand, not a question, and one Abraham thought he knew part of the answer to. After all, they had seen the vampire shivering by the fire, and the vampire didn't know this, not for certain.

"I was hungry." An angry spark, which quickly faded, clearly implied that the vampire was still hungry and not happy about it, either. "The blood spooked the horses. And I wanted a fire. It was not for you." The last was said with spite behind it, but the vampire was clearly too exhausted and weak from starvation to keep up his anger. The sentences were becoming shorter, the voice softer. Despite its weakness, Abraham didn't fail to notice that the vampire hadn't confessed to WHY he had wanted a fire; it had too much pride to admit to any weakness it did not have to admit to.

"You apparently spent the next day nearby, under a bridge, then left. We expected you to at least attempt to attack us. What were the reasons for this behavior?" Abraham knew he was being cold, demanding, and that the vampire was physically straining to answer, but he also realized that if he let up at all and gave the vampire time to think, he would end up being led in verbal circles or misdirected. The beast was clever, and Mina had emphasized this when preparing Abraham for his interrogation.

The vampire was almost silent as he replied. "It was too close to dawn to go any further. I did not want to attack you." Another pause, and then a touch of disgust. "I respected your abilities and the threat you represented." A long pause, as the vampire clearly gathered strength for the next, faint part. "I had my coffin, and rest and recovery were paramount." Abraham frowned slightly, the vampire had appeared to be about to continue, but stopped. It didn't appear to be deliberate, but rather that the beast had simply exhausted himself past the ability to answer any further.

He had been cooperating, and Abraham had promised to feed him. With Seward's worried eyes on him, he leaned over the coffin, tipping the remaining blood into the monster's mouth. As before, after a few moments the vampire licked the cup clean, and then foggy eyes turned to Abraham.

"Tired..." It was not a plea, not from this proud beast, but more a statement of fact. Abraham was deliberately keeping him on the edge of starvation, and while it made it less dangerous to interact with the creature, it also made him less capable of cooperation. After a few moments of thought, with the vampire motionless at his feet, Abraham left it, picking up his bag and returning to John.

"He needs more, he's barely awake and he's having difficulty focusing and answering the questions." Abraham's features carried a faint frown, unhappy with the idea of giving the vampire any additional sustenance, but also aware that the creature was simply too close to the edge of conciousness to handle the questioning. It was clearly trying to answer the questions more fully, but physically incapable of doing so.

Shortly afterwards, Abraham found himself feeding the vampire yet again. There was almost a half pint of blood in the cup this time, and the vampire began whining greedily as it sucked the liquid down. It looked almost angry, yet also bitterly disappointed, when the blood supply ran out and Van Helsing removed the cleaned cup from his mouth.

"Take some time to let that work through your system. I'll be back before dawn, we are nowhere close to being finished with the questioning." With Abraham's stern set of instructions, the vampire gratefully closed its eyes. There had been no visible, physical change, but the creature was already more alert, and Abraham cautioned Seward to watch it carefully. Arthur was awakened and sent to join Seward in watching the beast, with instructions to wake Abraham in two hours or when the vampire became active, whichever was first.

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Foolish humans. After so many days of safety, they ignored him. Their own folly. He was still weak, so weak, but capable of movement at this time. And capable of much more, too. His body might be trapping him, he might be barred behind silver, but he was perfectly capable of overcoming such obstacles.

First, the men. The count eased up, liftin his face above the edge of the coffin, and waiting patiently for one of the men to glance his way. Arthur was whittling, but Seward was more attentive, and within a few minutes he'd made the mistake of eye contact with Dracula. The vampire established that connection, ruthlessly pummeling into the man's mind and stopping him from warning Arthur. One man taken care of...now for the other.

Very deliberately, Dracula shifted. The sound was faint, but Arthur had been listening for it, and as soon as he looked, Dracula had him. Abraham had been a true fool, leaving the lit candles by the coffin. The illumination let the men see him clearly, and made controlling them so much easier. After a few moments of pressure, Seward shuffled forward. Dracula almost had him reach down to move the silver chain, but at the last minute thought better of it. The contact with the blessed metal might break his control over the man. Instead, Seward picked up the candelabra, using it to push the chain out of the way and freeing the vampire.

Dracula crept out of the coffin. Yes, he was mobile...but numb. Unwieldly. He hadn't realized how unreponsive his body was while trapped in the confines of the coffin. If he was going to leave, he needed blood. Fortunately, a source was right in front of him.

At this, the vampire paused. There were three other humans, and he couldn't maintain control over these two indefinitely. They were no Johnathan Harker, and they were fighting the control fairly successfully; shortly, they would break loose from his control. And if he had the five humans, angered and after him, it could go very, very badly.

A small meal, then. Not enough to damage the man, but enough to give him the agility to avoid the humans if he needed to. And quickly, before the men shook off control. At this, the vampire pulled Seward's arm towards him, quickly stripping the bandage off the arm, locating the hole from which the man had donated. A quick nip with a fang opened the vein back up, and the vampire greedily sucked in one, two, three lovely, hot, rich mouthfuls of blood. A glance up showed the man's face; he was terrified, convinced that the vampire was about to kill him.

The fool. If Dracula wanted him dead, they would have already died. He ignored the voice in his head that warned him of the folly of pride, of underestimating humans. A quick swipe of the tongue and a bit of pressure, and the wound closed and healed completely. The bandage was quickly tied about the arm again; Dracula had long ago learned to never leave evidence that anything had occurred!

Stronger, so much stronger. So much better. Within a few moments, the chain had been restored, the control over the men reinforced. As the vampire moved to the door, he became aware of discomfort...and then a BARRIER? Cursing, he looked about. The men had prepared better than he had thought, and the door was sealed with holy symbols and Host.

Men could be so useful, though.

It made his skin crawl and the Count was painfully tense, but Seward carried him to the door, passing him through the barrier to Arthur. Dracula realized that he was whining as Seward carried him; the contact was incredibly unnerving, but necessary. Added to the acute discomfort of being forced through a very effective barrier, and like it or not, he was reacting. As quickly as possible, he was out of their arms and on the floor. Wide-eyed and hissing, he backed away, shaking, temporarily unable to control the response that such an intimate physical contact created. He sat on the floor, arms wrapped about himself, panting briefly while he overcame the unwanted, miserable reaction.

Shortly afterwards, Seward and Arthur were once again seated, watching the room and the coffin, awake, alert, and completely unaware that several minutes of time had escaped their memory, and the coffin was now empty.

Dracula was several corridors away by that point, finding out exactly where the humans were and what they had been up to in his home while he was incapacitated. 


	29. Chapter 29 : Bitter

*I was berated for the cliff hanger... And so I wrote another one. ;) I just might get this wrapped up in a third post tonight where he encounters Abraham, but no guarantees. Thanks again for all the great reviews and suggestions!*

Bitter

He moved along the corridors, slowly and quietly. The quiet was deliberate, but the slow was in deference to his poor physical condition. He'd wanted more blood, needed more blood, but taking any more from that human would have been noticeable. It was enough to function, enough to move about freely, but not with any speed.

Sniffing and listening, he tracked down the first human. Humans. Two heartbeats, and the speed of the heart and the scent drifting under the door claimed that room to be Mina's. The other...probably that foul louse of a husband. Unseen by others, the vampire hissed. He'd heard the sincerity in Mina's voice when she refused him again; he reluctantly accepted that he might have lost her entirely.

The idea of killing Harker and stringing him up by his intestines was appealing, especially if the man was still screaming at the time. He'd stolen away the woman that Dracula wanted. Honestly, if she'd accepted mastery over him, he'd have been willing to deal with the presence of her husband as part of the price he'd need to pay.

But Johnathan would never, ever accept him, and Mina had already made her choice.

Unable to resist, the vampire pushed the door open slightly, watching the two forms sleeping on the bed. Mina was curled up in Johnathan's arms, and the...aroma...of recent intimacy was strong on the air. She seemed so content, and it was with a sense of finality that the vampire closed the door, withdrawing into the hallway and leaving the two lovers asleep.

Gone, gone, she was gone, she would never be his Master. It was such a bitter pill to swallow, and the Count found himself petrified by the loss. He curled up in the hallway, back against the rough wooden door, utterly miserable, weeping quietly to himself.

Several minutes of self-pitying misery passed, and then the instincts of self-preservation kicked in. He was falling too perilously close to listening to those voices, of falling into a rage and despair and ripping out throats, turning the peaceful sleepers into shrieking victims and then bloody corpses. And that was not what he wanted, not at all.

He didn't know what he wanted anymore, not really. There had been three people able to serve as his Master; Quincy, Abraham, and Mina. Quincy had died, fallen to the blades of the Romani as they struggled to protect their lord. Mina had refused him, with a vicious and cold finality underscored by her clear love for Johnathan. That left Abraham.

And as appealing as a Master would be, to help shelter him from the voices, to provide companionship, to rescue him from madness and loneliness and the loss of self, he did not want a male Master. Never again.

But he might not have much choice.

With a shudder, hunched over in an outward expression of his internal pain, he wandered down the hall away from Mina, looking for the final missing member of the party of humans that had so drastically altered his existence. 


	30. Chapter 30 : Monster under the bed

*Still no real encounter with Abraham, but another chapter nonetheless!*

Monster under the bed

Abraham's room was very close, only a few doors down from the one that Harkers had chosen. All the rooms in this wing had seen occasional use by the Romani, so the beds were not simply piles of dust; the Count realized he count have simply started his search here, as it was the only logical place for the members of the party to be sleeping. It was a bit sobering to realize that he was not as functional as he had believed, to have missed something so obvious.

And yet, here he was. It was with a sense of dread and trepidation that Dracula eased the door open to the doctor's room. He could hear the muffled, steady breathing of a sleeping man, the firm solid thumping of a heart.

The room had been changed. In front of the narrow window was a table, covered in books and papers clearly scavenged from the castle. The bed had been pushed closer to the fireplace, which currently glowed with red embers and a few small flickering flames. While the room was not warm, the Count could feel a change in the temperature, several degrees warmer than the chilly hallways and the isolated room where he had been kept.

The man slumbered on. Emboldened by the steady breaths, Dracula moved quietly to the table, flipping through papers, with one eye always on the dutchman. What had the man been up to? The papers were not enlightening, they were simply a random assortment of the notes and deeds and assorted detritus of managing his lands, with a random Bible joining the clutter as well. However, there was a notebook, a journal, also lying with the papers, one that looked far too recent to be something found in his home.

Intrigued, the Count picked it up, leaning back into a corner out of easy view of Abraham as he flipped through the pages. It was...interesting. While the dutch that the book was written in was not a language he was familiar with, much less fluent in, it bore a close enough relation to his own tongue and others that he had studied that he could pick out a few phrases. The most recent pages were the subject of his focus, and frustrating as well. It seemed the man was quite confident in his capture of a vampire, after all. What Dracula wanted most to find out was what the devil the man had planned for him. A pet? A prisoner? A prize? However, the language eluded him and it was with a sense of frustration that he returned the journal to the table after only a few minutes.

Dizzy...he was dizzy. Leaning over the table to return the book made the table spin under his eyes, and surprised, he paused, leaning over the papers. He was tired, ignored previously in the euphoria of his escape, however temporary, and in the focus of the search. But the blood he had taken had been so little, not wanting to weaken the man and bring the ire of the humans down up on him, just enough to move about, and it came at the end of days of starvation and pain. Old and powerful he might be, but he clearly was not recovering quickly and well, not on such a limited source of sustenance. The spell passed as rapidly as it had arrived, and the vampire was left to ponder his options.

No more wandering the halls. He could seclude himself in another room off this hallway, but being alone did not hold any appeal. This room was filled with the scent of a human, after all, and warm too from the burning fire. But too open, too revealed...and he was so tired... Another dizzy spell, briefer but equally intense, passed over him. And he wanted to look further at that book, see what else he could puzzle out... A few minutes later, and the book and vampire were arranged underneath the bed of Abraham as he slept. The enclosed nature of the space appealed to vampiric instincts, and it was as good a spot as any to stay and wait until the man awakened and Dracula could speak with him.

At least, that was the intention, but the tired Count found himself dozing off, the book open before him but the words dancing and sliding off the page rather than staying properly still to be read. 


	31. Chapter 31 : Hunted

*Yet another short chapter; I know exactly where this is going (or at least a few paths it could take) and if I have a break this afternoon I might be able to get another one up as well. Thanks again for all the people who left wonderful and encouraging reviews and messages for me!

Hunted

Anger...fear?

There were raised voices in the hallway, fists pounding on the door, and the Count opened his bleary eyes to see feet only a short distance from his head. What?...Where?... It took a few moments for his sleep-mazed mind to remember where he was and realize what had clearly occurred.

It appears he had been missed.

"Abraham, we went to check on him, and the coffin is EMPTY." Arthur sounded almost frantic. "Neither of us saw him move, saw him leave. Nothing is changed, we have no idea how he escaped, but he is GONE." Seward's feet paced back and forth, but Arthur wasn't fidgeting, his feet remaining firmly planted inches from Dracula's nose. Curious as to what would happen and worried, the vampire remained quiet and concealed.

Within moments, the Harkers had joined the group, and Abraham's feet were also on the floor. They moved to the fireplace, adding another log and sending a bright shower of sparks up the chimney, before Abraham spoke.

"Has anyone been bitten?" A few moments' pause as necks were inspected for damage. The vampire nearly snorted at this. Necks were certainly the most accessible point, and a source of pleasure all on their own, but any vein would have done. Foolish people. Seward's feet resumed their pacing, and then he stumbled unexpectedly.

"Sorry. Just a little dizzy there."

"John, sit down." Abraham's voice was soft, but rich with concern. "Dizzy?" A few moments passed, apparently Seward was being checked over by the doctor.

"I don't like this, John. You barely gave a half-pint of blood, you do not have a fever, you aren't dehydrated, yet you are dizzy. Sit down, please." The bed sagged above the monster as John obeyed the doctor. "Your clothes, remove them." The vampire was a bit surprised that Mina was not requested to leave, but not overly so; it would have been an incredibly stupid move for them, were they in the danger they assumed.

"Hold still a moment, I'm going to remove the bandage and check for inflammation." Another pause, and then Abraham's quiet voice. "There is no hole, no bruise."

"That's good, isn't it?" Harker, damn him. The man was a fool.

"No." A long pause. "There is no realistic way that the small wound from a blood draw could heal entirely within the space of a few hours. There should be residual bruising, a small scab, and there is nothing." Under the bed, the vampire's eyes grew a bit wider. So clever of him to cover his traces, the hole had already been there, after all... He was not functioning as he should be, first the injury, then the difficulty realizing where the party was sleeping... Worrisome, what else was he missing?

"Mina, Johnathan, please go to the kitchen and bring back some water, I'd like to replace the missing fluids." A pause, then a reluctant explanation. "John, I suspect he bit you. You are weaker than you should be, slightly pale, and your injury is missing. I did not realize that a vampire could heal a wound, although it makes sense to help them avoid detection. He clearly didn't take very much, and I do wonder why you and Arthur were not murdered."

DAMN the man. Entirely too clever, and able to put together little bits of information to make a distressingly accurate picture of what had occurred. He was a very worthy opponent, perhaps too worthy, and Dracula's respect for him grew further. He truly wanted to know what was in that little book; he couldn't predict what this man would do or how he would think, and the uncertainty about Abraham's intentions were nerve-wracking.

A few more minutes passed, the humans checking their weapons and planning how to search the castle. Mina and Johnathan returned, and Seward took a few healthy drinks of the cold well water they provided. Dracula was rather impressed with the methodical approach Van Helsing was taking as they planned their search. The humans had mapped out the entire castle, and knew the majority of the passageways, at least the obvious ones. They planned to start at the top, sealing off each level as they cleared it using what little remained of their supplies, hoping to drive him to the cellars and dungeons, and capture him there during the day.

Intelligent plan, indeed, and it would likely have worked if the vampire had been lurking about the castle and hunting them as they assumed. And if they'd had more silver, more religious items to block him with. But there were only five humans, their supplies were limited and nearly gone, and the castle was large, sprawling, and intimately familiar to the vampire. They had to know it could not work, but these humans simply did not know when to GIVE UP.

A few more moments passed, then the entire group left, leaving the vampire alone with his book, concealed under the bed in the dusty room, watching the flames flicker and pondering what he should do next. 


	32. Chapter 32 : Monster in the bed

*oooh, another chapter. And while the humans are out wearing themselves down, stressed and frightened, what is our vampire doing? Not what is expected, that's for certain.*

Monster In the Bed

His coffin. Morning would be coming, though not for a couple more hours, and he really ought to be back in it before then. Three things were going to keep that from happening. First, he didn't NEED to be back in it. He was on his home soil, in his own castle, and while it wasn't going to help him as much as being in his own coffin would, it would still allow him a restful sleep. He could miss a day in the coffin and be just fine. The second issue was simply getting access to his resting place. With the walls and doorway barricaded, it would take human assistance to reach it. He was powerful enough that such fripperies might not have stopped him, but as tired and worn as he was, those barriers were more than sufficient. Finally, and most importantly, there were five well-armed, frightened, and very determined humans somewhere in his home and they were intent on killing him, or at least shooting him and knocking him down again.

Granted, they were likely to put him in his coffin afterwards, which would solve that little problem, but they were much too likely to include a stake and restore those damned religious trappings that had already caused far too much trouble.

So, what to do?

With no one in the room and no one anywhere nearby, there was no real reason to stay under the bed. The Count slowly pulled himself out from under it, then seated himself on the edge nearest the fire, the warm flames beating at his legs. He pulled out the book, intending to try and puzzle out more of the language, but found himself drowsing again. He simply had no stamina. The meal he'd taken had helped, but it was just not sufficient, and merely sitting up was slowly draining him.

A few more moments, and the vampire had piled the pillows onto the head of the bed, leaning against them and the headboard, journal open in his lap as he attempted to pick out words and decipher meaning. It was slow going, and he snarled in frustration. The man's handwriting was clear enough, but the bastard had not chosen English, but his native tongue when putting down his notes, and it was simply not readable. Some words were familiar, and the overall tone of confidence was clear, but the vampire couldn't make heads nor tails of much of the writing.

He closed the book in his lap and pondered his next step.

There was no reason to leave the room. It was warm, the bed was soft, and he was tired. Abraham would return to the room eventually, and then the vampire could speak with him. The difficulty was in not being staked before that could happen.

And being found in the hallways by humans that considered him, correctly, to be a dangerous threat would likely result in a stake. He simply lacked the physical ability to dodge an attack or heal the resulting damage.

So, he would stay in the room. He would be blatantly NOT hunting the humans, not hiding, and hope that saved him from a silver bullet or other attack. Visible and non-aggressive, and they just might show a bit of restraint. While some of the party would be more than willing to simply shoot first and then ask questions once he'd been contained again, he had faith in Abraham's ability to be more reasonable, in the man's curiousity and confidence in his ability to deal with the vampire. And if he was going to be here waiting, he might as well be comfortable. The bed was soft under him, thick sheets and blankets piled on it, and he could detect faint traces of heat coming through the covers. The sun would be up within the next half-hour, and while the window was narrow, there would be light coming in it. He would need to find shelter. Under the bed would work, but really didn't appeal to him. However...

A few minutes later, as the dark night outside slowly shifted to a deep gray, and the bed was empty of vampire. The book lay by the pillow, the other pillow missing. And in the center of the bed, a large lump lay safely protected by the thick blankets, enjoying the last residual heat from Abraham's prior occupancy. 


	33. Chapter 33 : Found

*I received this review, and had to agree and share it! Google the game to get a description...it's too accurate! "It's like a game of Fury of Dracula: a lot of riled up hunters running around hell bent on clobbering him and one paranoid elusive vampire hoping he can stay out of the way long enough to win."  
Time to wake the sleeping beauty!*

Found

Their search for the vampire had been spectacularly unproductive so far. They were all fairly certain that it was simply hiding down in the cellar areas, but it could as easily be following them about, stalking them. And they would all much rather encounter the beast in the dim hallways of the living areas, rather than the black and lightless cellars. They had inspected both towers and the top floor, carefully checking each room, behind every door, and looking for any signs of disturbance.

Nothing.

The next floor was equally empty, and the five faces reflected both discouragement and relief. The sunlight was bright, shining with golden warm rays through the slits of windows, and providing a small sense of probably false safety. Room after room, dusty and disused corridor after corridor. They were coughing from the dust the billowed as they looked behind rotten curtains, opened dessicated wardrobes and chests, moved motheaten hangings that had once been glorious but were now tattered rags that fell apart at the lightest of touches.

They reached the floor they had inhabited with a sense of relief. It had been regularly used, most likely by the Romani judging by the few castoffs they had found, and was clear of most dust and damage. Each room was checked, all of them bare of anything unexpected. When they arrived at Abraham's room, it was decided to take a brief rest and eat breakfast. The stress of hunting was wearing on them all, each shadow at the end of the hallway causing them to jerk and then stare, looking for gleaming teeth or red eyes. With a weary sigh compounded of equal parts fatigue, frustration, and determination, Abraham pushed his door open, intending to take a moment and record the day's events in his journal. Should anything happen to him, the others might be able to use what he had recorded to return and defeat the monster in the future. He took a step in, moving towards the table where he kept the journal and pen, and paused in surprise. It wasn't there.

Had he left it down with the vampire when questioning him? No, he clearly remembered bringing it back here, taking a few notes on the responses before laying himself down for a nap. He turned and-

"Bloody almighty hell." The others returned immediately on hearing the oath, and found Abraham staring angrily down at the bed, eyes blazing, jaw muscles bulging as he clenched his teeth in his anger. On the bed rested the missing journal, carelessly left open, and in the center was an enormous lump that could only be their missing vampire.

"The bloody bastard has been sleeping in my bed while we traipsed throughtout this entire, god-forsaken, dusty heap hunting for him." The anger degenerated into Dutch at that point, the words unknown but clearly not suited for polite company. To add insult to injury, the journal was filthy, covered with a scum of dust and webs, and that mess was deposited on the bedding as well. With a sudden inspiration, Abraham stooped to peer under the bed, seeing the large area brushed free of dust.

He wasn't sure whether to laugh or to curse at that point.

"And before that, he apparently hid UNDER the bed." He scowled angrily at the heap on the bed. "And I'm quite certain that he has made a filthy mess of the bedding, too."

The others stared at him, taken aback by the completely irrelevant comment, puzzled further as Abraham's anger faded into humor and he chuckled. Abraham stepped to the bed, carefully pulling back the covers as the others raised weapons.

The vampire was curled up, pillow tucked under his chin, looking absolutely peaceful and sound asleep. As they stared, the bright sunlight clearly began to bother the vampire. Even though it struck him indirectly, the low angle shone the light directly through the window and the room was relatively bright. Grumbling, the vampire flailed about a bit, causing everyone to pull back. Its searching hands found the blankets, and began clumsily attempting to pull them back up.

Abraham was shaking his head, eyes dancing with mirth as he restored the covers over the vampire. Dracula immediately curled back into the pillow and ceased to move.

Picking up his journal, Abraham turned to the others. "You may as well eat. I doubt he's going to be going anywhere or doing anything. I'd like to record this, and then I'll join you."

While reluctant to leave, the others accepted the current harmless nature of the vampire and headed down the hall to the kitchen. Abraham, still chuckling at this vastly unexpected turn of events, took a few minutes to record his observations and the startling new conclusions he was drawing, then went to join them. 


	34. Chapter 34 : Puzzle Pieces edited

*FIXED: I had time to go in and do some editing. Whoo hoo! I added some sentences, moved a few things about. Alucard is a little less of a puzzle now; they're putting those pieces together, thus the title. There was an odd sort of typo at the end where part of a sentence vanished; that's now repaired as well.*

Puzzle Pieces

The hunters stood about in the kitchen, eating the porridge they'd cobbled together out of the grains and flour in the kitchen, with a handful of dried berries to provide a little flavor to the bland dish. Everyone was hungry enough, and the porridge appealing enough, that there was no talking for several minutes.

Finishing, placing his bowl on the counter, Arthur turned to face the others. "I remember some of what happened, and it's odd, to say the least." At three pairs of curious eyes and the understanding ones of John, he continued. "When I saw the vampire, I remembered seeing him standing by the coffin, and I think I have the full memory now. It's not entirely clear, but I remember."

He looked at them, taking a deep breath, and beginning. "We were watching him, and I guess he...hypnotized? controlled? John first. I heard a noise, and the vampire was sitting upright in the coffin, no longer laying down. At that point, I...it's odd, I couldn't worry. It all seemed very natural, not worth noticing. John went up to the vampire, and used the candleabra to move the silver chain away. The vampire stood up, and that's what I remembered seeing. He was...swaying, off balance, stiff. He bit John then."

A pause, as he tried to put what he had seen into words. "It wasn't sudden, just...very calm. He took time to untie and remove the bandage, for example, and bit, somehow, at the elbow. He wasn't there long, and he put the bandage back, too. I remember thinking that was nice of him, it was so...odd. There's really no other word for it, just...odd. Almost like a dream." Arthur's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, but this is like, trying to remember, to describe a dream. I'm not sure if I'm being clear." After another pause, he continued.

"He tried to leave then, I don't think he could go through the doorway, he seemed very angry. He walked slower and then stopped, maybe five feet from the door. John picked him up then, and carried him to the door. I was outside the room still, and John stopped at the doorway, and then it just seemed like I should take the vampire, so John passed the vampire to me. He was very light, it was almost unbelievable how little he weighed. He was so angry though, as soon as he was past the door he was out of my arms, growling.

He never bit me. He didn't even try. He just...bit John for a few minutes, then wanted to leave. I noticed he was moving a lot better then, I think that's why he wanted the blood. Afterwards, once he was in the hallway, he didn't go anywhere immediately. He just seemed so angry, he was on the floor, sort of crouched, just...growling. It was very animalistic. I suppose I should have felt frightened, but everything just seemed so calm, so normal.

And then I sat down, with John, and I felt dizzy. And then I didn't remember any of that. As far as I knew, I'd been in the chair the entire time, John beside me. Until I saw the vampire, and it triggered a memory in me."

John nodded. "I don't have much to add to that. I wasn't as calm as Arthur was; I remember, now, being terrified when he bit me. I thought he was going to kill me. Instead, he made a single hole, right where I'd donated from. He licked it afterwards, which I remember thinking was an odd thing for a vampire to do, but that might be when it healed. I wasn't frightened then, once he'd bitten me, everything seemed...just...fine. I remember carrying him to the door, he seemed worried when we approached it. I had intended to carry him through it, it was only at the doorway itself when I felt like I decided to stop and hand him over. Otherwise, it's just like Arthur said. He wasn't threatening, just very matter-of-fact about it."

Abraham thought, mulling this information over as he paced about the room slowly. "I suspect he was afraid that passing through the doorway would cause him to lose control over you. It's odd, but it fits with the silver chain; you didn't touch it directly, though that would have been easiest. If he should seem to mesmerize anyone again, this gives us the information on how we can break that spell."

Abraham sighed, then, turning to them. "I think...we have been going about this in the wrong way. If you consider...he himself hasn't actually killed anyone. Lucy was badly weakened by him, but as we spoke of at the time, the blood transfusions themselves were risky. He attacked Mina but though the opportunity presented itself, he never killed her. He gathered our supplies for us, rather than coming after us immediately. He had just eaten, he was strong, we were essentially unarmed, easy prey if he had chosen to do so. We were unmolested during the time we rested, and since arriving here, he has been...cooperative." Abraham smiled wryly.

"He hasn't been what I would call HAPPY about the situation, but it's been much easier to work with him than I would have expected. Even when he was 'escaping' the room, he refrained from being violent." He began pacing again, enumerating the unexpected behavior of the vampire.

"He could easily have killed Arthur and John, drained them dry and left them. Instead, he didn't even attempt to frighten them, just took enough blood to be functional. When he was moving throughout the castle, he passed the other bedrooms before reaching mine. And Mina and Johnathan were sleeping, as was I; killing us would have been child's play. Instead, he stole my journal and hid under my bed."

"Today, he could have been in the crypts, could have left unpleasant surprises, could even have simply hidden. Instead, he's sleeping in plain sight, entirely vulnerable."

"I just don't think that killing us is anywhere on his...agenda. I'm not sure what he's planning, or why, and I do not recommend that we trust him at all. He did... bewitch ... John and Arthur, and bite John. His past also includes a great many deaths; not the least of which is the crew of the Demeter and an entire pack of bandits. But I don't think we need to fear him as we have. I'm inclined to see what he'll do next and if he remains coooperative, rather than putting some silver in him and locking him in the coffin again. However, these are your lives as well that we might be risking. I need to know what you think and want, as well."  



	35. Chapter 35 : Turnabout

*The vampire had the humans all confused and off-balance. Turnabout is fair play. Or in this case, fair ploy!*

Turnabout

Dracula blinked awake. He was so lethargic, body almost numb, but he was also very comfortable. It wasn't his coffin he was in, but it was soft, dark,...cozy. He didn't hurt anywhere, something he had come to dread and fear when he woke. Hunger, yes, he was hungry, but not starving. The voices pushed him to hunt and eat, but they were easier to ignore; it took him a moment to realize that he was surrounded by the scent of a human, which helped buffer him against the insanity. And...he was in a bed. Abraham's bed. Untouched, unharmed...had they even found him?

A few moments to listen, try and determine what surrounded him before revealing that he was awake, and a heartbeat. Racing a bit, the person was excited, but not overly fast. Nearby, the other four heartbeats pounded. Yes, he'd been discovered.

And they had let him sleep?

Surprising. Pleasing. Hopeful, and promising. What was even more amazing was the complete lack of restraints; there was no burning, no aching, no sense of itching, no discomfort to indicate that they had used religious objects or silver to contain him.

Cautious, but now far more curious, he pulled the blankets back, looking for the owner of that heartbeat, and his eyes met those of Abraham. Who, rather than waiting with a pistol drawn, loaded with silver bullets, or a vial of holy water, rather than cautiously waiting to see what the vampire would do, rather than anything that he could have expected...

Was sitting comfortably in a chair, feet up and crossed on a box, flipping through that damned dutch journal. Completely unintimidated, the man rested the book on his lap, then said in the calmest, most casual voice possible,

"So, vampire, you're awake. Mind telling me what you are doing in MY bed?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Abraham and the others had decided that it would be wise to have them armed and nearby, just in case, but that Abraham would be the foolhardy idiot (Johnathan's word choice) to deal with the vampire when it woke up.

Abraham had then set up a scene that would not be overly threatening. He was armed, but the pistol was out of sight of the vampire. He was seated and comfortable, not looming over the bed. And he had opted for a sort of pleasant, albeit somewhat commanding, opening, too.

The absolutely flabberghasted expression on the vampire's face had made the careful setup of the situation so very worth it. 


	36. Chapter 36 : Acceptance

Abraham came back out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him, looking rather amazed and shocked. With a sigh, he leaned against it, rubbing his eyes. He'd spent the last couple of hours with the vampire, asking questions and finally getting complete answers and explanations, and to say he'd been dumbfounded by his discovery would be an understatement. He'd stopped questioning when the vampire's responses had become slow, the voice weak, and the Count had appeared unable to keep its eyes open. He needed to feed the vampire, he needed to let the others know what he had learned.

And he very definitely needed to find his mental footing.

This changed everything.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Abraham had fortified his drink with a bottle of alcohol they had found. It had most likely belonged to the Count, because he couldn't picture a Romani wanting such a fine bottle of liquor. It was expensive and extravagant, a fine wine, and it was currently being used to help Abraham cope with what he had found. Fortify the drink? He snorted to himself. He was drinking the damn wine itself, he needed it. Seated on a kitchen bench, he tried to explain what he had learned.

"The difficulty...would not be in bringing the Count back to London with us." He snorted, staring into space. "The difficulty would be in leaving him behind." He raised his eyes, looking steadily at each of the four. "The monster WISHES to stay with me."

He returned to his contemplation of the space in front of him, trying to decide how to summarize what he had learned. "They say that power corrupts. Dracula is the most powerful vampire I have ever heard of, much less encountered, and that power comes at a price. He is losing his sanity."

Now, he looked up at Mina. "You have seen this; when he destroyed the bandits, you have seen what he is becoming. In order to save what remains of his mind, he wants to have a human Master. I'm not certain what that entails, but it's apparently his sole purpose in traveling to England in the first place. And he found you."

"Mina, he wasn't trying to turn you into a bride, but into a Master. He wanted you to fight him, to prove that your will was stronger than his. And you have done so. But accepting his..servitude, odd as that sounds...you'd have to bring him into your house, and you've made it clear you won't do that. He's given up, finally, on you as his Master."

Abraham's dry laugh startled the others. "But apparently he'll settle for me. Or Quincy, had he survived. The rest of you, he doesn't really care for one way or the other, but you've been safe so far because he is desperate not to alienate either Mina or myself. He's also intimidated. Him, intimidated." Here, Abraham's dry laugh, equally humor and irony, was again audible. "We came closer to killing him permanently than I think any of us realized. However, we also came closer to triggering him to complete insanity and our destruction as well."

"I'm not certain of how this works, he's much too exhausted to explain any further, but essentially, if he goes mad, he'll be incredibly powerful. What we've seen so far is going to be like dealing with a baby compared to what he is able to become, though I don't know how realistic that explanation is. Binding himself to a human will block off that power, but he'll stay sane, and it's a trade he's desperate to make."

Abraham put down the mug, rising to his feet and pacing. "I don't trust him. I don't think he's lying, but I also don't think he's telling the entire truth, either. I have told him that I will...consider...his request. But I intend to find out much much more before I make a commitment, and we may end up staking the bastard again instead.

That is going to mean remaining here for some time to come. There are sufficient stores for a much larger number of people to be here all winter, that's not an issue. But if you'd like to return to England without me, that I understand as well. For now, I'd like to feed him, then return him to his coffin. Unless he's substantially stronger, the warding in that room ought to contain him. Those watching him will be wearing blessed silver chains against their skin, which, if I'm correct in my earlier conclusions, will prevent a repeat of last night's experiences."

Abraham looked at the others again. "I refuse to make a decision based on the information that I have. Will you be willing to continue to keep him contained, knowing what you do about his abilities, while I try to learn more?"

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They had dozens of questions, and their disbelief was clear. Had Abraham been any less of a leader, the vampire's future would have been in doubt. However, he'd identified the attack on Lucy, helped them find and destroy her when their precautions and attempts to save her had failed. He had saved Mina with his knowledge, had taken the entire group of them successfully to Romania, had nearly destroyed the Count. He had shown himself to be wise and capable, highly educated and brilliantly intelligent, and also a masterful leader. He had kept them bold and brave, heartened them with speeches, led by example, and in the end, they were willing to accept his leadership once again.

There were precautions to be taken, but the threat of the Count seemed so much...less, now. The guards would include a person who was in the hallway and out of sight of the door, for instance, and thus could not be so easily manipulated by the monster. When it was awake, at Arthur's insistence, it would be wearing a blindfold, taking away its ability to mesmerize, or so they hoped. Abraham was well aware that the vampire would simply rip off the blindfold if it felt it necessary, but it would be a good test of the creature's obedience, too.

All in all, this coming week looked to be very, very...interesting. 


	37. Chapter 37 : Resistance

*For those of you wondering about why Dracula flipped out when he was carried across the household and why he is so resistant to a male master, take a few moments to read Unpredictable, Ch 27 (touch) and Ch 64 (sad, 2). If you're completely confused, read those first, as it plays into this chapter*

Resistance

Abraham had intended to place the vampire in its coffin directly after speaking with the other members of the party, but found there was one definite setback. He was drunk. Not falling-down drunk, but tipsy, certainly not able to carry a vampire safely to its coffin.

No matter, there were others able to carry it. They had returned to the room to find the vampire sleeping quietly on the bed. Sleeping, or simply inert due to starvation, it was difficult to tell, really. Arthur scooped the monster up, and Abraham was able to observe that, yes, the bedding was a complete dusty and cobweb-coated mess. However, observations on the state of his bed had to wait, for the vampire roused at that point and became aware that he was being carried. Only a few steps from the bed, and it had begun to keen and to struggle weakly.

Abraham stepped forward, concerned for his new...charge? The vampire's eyes were only half-open and it had ceased to struggle, but as Arthur stood there, holding the limp vampire in his arms, the sound only increased. It was still very quiet, but also at the limit of the vampire's ability.

Was it injured? How? It was too weak to determine whether it was furious, injured, or frightened, there was no real expression, just the constant shrill scream.

"Put him back down, quickly. Something has gone wrong." An understatement, certainly, but Arthur was quick to comply and had already been moving towards the bed. Once released, the vampire's keening stopped, fading into faint sobbing gasps. Mina, still touched by the recent revelation of what the monster's intentions had been and feeling the slightest guilt for her misguided assumptions and fears, moved to kneel beside the creature.

"Vlad." Her soft voice was pitched to soothe, and she gently brushed its hair as Johnathan looked on, glowering. "Shhh...Vlad...we need to put you in your coffin. That's all." The vampire settled further, finally quieting entirely. Mina looked up at them, blue eyes serious. "Abraham can't carry him, and I suspect he's going to fuss if anyone else tries to lift him. I don't think he's injured, not if he was wandering about our rooms yesterday."

"Can you lift him, Mina?" was the next question, posed by a concerned Abraham.

"He's very light, no more than a child," interjected John, with Arthur nodding in agreement.

"See if he'll allow it." That was Abraham, disappointed in himself in not being able to move the creature himself. However, they were not about to give it any more blood until it was safely contained in the sealed-off room, and someone had to be able to carry the beast. If needed, they'd simply ignore its fussing until it was safely ensconced back in the casket, but he'd really prefer not to stress it further than needed.

Mina nodded, scooping up the creature, a look of surprise on her features at how very little it weighed, even though the men had warned her of how slight the beast was. The red eyes barely twitched open, but no fussing ensued. Moving quickly, Mina carried the Count from the room, and the others followed behind as she traveled rapidly through the hallways.

There was a pause at the doorway, as Mina had to literally push through the barrier with the vampire. She reported that it was like wading through water, but quite doable, although surprising. The vampire responded ever so slightly, mouth opening in a faint hiss, but no more. She kicked the chains away then gently lowered the motionless vampire into the coffin.

Johnathan was the only one that had not donated, willingly or not, to the vampire in the last few days, and Seward would clearly not be donating for another week or more. Abraham worried about that a bit; would the vampire be able to eat the blood of horses? For now, Johnathan was shamed into donating by his wife, and Abraham drew off almost an entire pint. The vampire quickly revived under his eyes as the blood was consumed, then Abraham prepared the room for it.

The chains were removed from around the coffin, placed outside the door for access by the guards. The candelabra and all other non-religious items, excepting the coffin itself, were removed. During those proceedings, the vampire watched, first with dull eyes, then with sharper ones, face slowly lighting with curiousity. When done, the still tipsy Abraham turned to face him. Tipsy he might be, but coherent, and firm in his demands.

"You are being given access to this room. Do not approach the door and do not attempt to control any of us. Doing so will result in punishment, most likely confining you to your coffin instead of allowing you freedom of movement." He scowled briefly at the vampire. "Any additional privileges will depend entirely on your behavior and cooperation. There is also one additional requirement. Should anyone other than myself be guarding you, you are to be blindfolded."

The vampire's eyes widened, and he looked confused, opening his mouth to speak. "No argument. Had you not decided to misuse your powers on John and Arthur, you would not be so restrained. You will not be arguing your way out of this." He considered explaining more, but realized that he was rambling a bit, probably due to the alcohol. Instead, he moved out of the room, seating himself outside the door, and pulled his journal out of his jacket.

The others slowly left, looking back to see Abraham carefully detailing the events, the vampire sitting on the edge of the coffin, watching. 


	38. Chapter 38 : Visitors

*Now, if all that food is in the castle, where the heck are all the Romani at?*

Visitors

Dracula and Abraham had both slept much of the day away, but in late afternoon, shortly before sunset, the castle residents got a surprise.

Visitors.

Mina and Johnathan had been down in the kitchen, preparing supper and enjoying a bit of time together, and to their great surprise the outer door had opened and two children had come merrily shouting in. They had stopped in shock at seeing the two strangers, then turned and ran out, calling to someone outside.

A man came inside immediately, frown on his face, and began shouting at them. Two more, all dark and bearded and brightly clothed, pushed in behind him, and raised voices of children and women could be heard in the outer courtyard. The Romani had arrived, and they were not happy at the unexpected visitors. More men were pushing into the kitchen, quickly filling it with angry faces. After a few moments, it became clear that they also recognized the strangers as the ones responsible for the deaths of the Romani that had been escorting the Count, and weapons were drawn.

John and Arthur had raced in when they heard the commotion, and their pistols were now also aimed at the Romani, who were brandishing long knives and a few hunting rifles in return.

"Johnathan, speak to them." Arthur's command was barely audible over the very angry men, and now women too, crowding into the kitchen.

"I can't, I barely speak any Romanian at all, certainly not enough to communicate!" Harker's fear and frustration were clear, but with the guns of the other men out, he and Mina were able to retreat from the kitchen and into the hallway. Arthur slammed the heavy kitchen door shut, but there was no lock, no latch, and so they turned and raced down the hall. They were outnumbered, but there were also women and children in the Romani families, and no one wanted to kill or injure when they might be able to do otherwise.

"Abraham's room. It has a window, and he and his weapons are there." The Count was entirely forgotten in the turmoil, but the four raced down corridors, hearing the Romani close behind them. They piled into Abraham's room, Arthur throwing the latch on the door, as Abraham stumbled out of bed, grabbing his own weapon.

"What, the vampire?" Abraham's mind, fighting a hangover, struggled to determine what was occurring.

"Gypsies. Several families, armed, and after us." John's terse explanation ended, with Mina tipping the table over to shelter behind it, pistol leveled over the top and aimed at the door. The men were quick to join her, and the door rattled, then gave a resounding thud as a shoulder clearly rammed into it. Angry voices were audible in the hall, a man's voice raised in fury, and Mina shouted back, equally angry. Her temper was up, and her word choices apt but highly unladylike. Were the men not so worried, they would have been impressed. As it was, her fierce female voice caused a lull in the voices outside the hall.

After a few moments, it quieted down, and some footsteps could be heard moving away, though several were clearly waiting outside the door, angrily muttering.

"Searching for others." Abraham's cold analysis of the situation appeared to be correct, and the delay was buying them a bit of time. Seward used that to get up and inspect the window. The remaining wooden casing was rotten, easily removed, but even so the window was too narrow for any of them, even the slightly-built Johnathan, to maneuver through. Frustrated and becoming frightened, he moved back behind the table. Each face looked determined; if they were going to die, they were going to take quite a few of the Romani with them, and there was a chance that some of their group might make it. They certainly had better weapons, and the Romani would have to come in through only the single doorway, bunching up to do so. Depending on the number of attackers, they just might make it.

Voices in the hall became loud again, and then a much louder thud and the sound of splintering wood came from the door. The latch on the door was thick and solid, and the Romani had changed tactics; after a few more blows, the gray tip of an axe became visible. Mina cursed again, the others readying their weapons and briefly exchanging ideas on tactics and defense as they waited for the gypsies to break through the door.

A booming voice echoed down the hall, and suddenly all activity ceased. The voice was rich, powerful, and angry, and suddenly the voices in the hall changed from anger and rage to apologetic babbling. Abraham looked at the party, smiling grimly. "The Count is awake, and I don't think he's happy about this." The words were not known, as the count was reprimanding, then reassuring, the Romani in their own tongue, but the tone was clear. The crowd in the hall suddenly melted away, and in the silence, the four looked at each other. The vampire's voice boomed out again. "Abraham? I have sent them to the kitchen again, told them to remain there and that they are not to harm or threaten any of you, that you are my guests and under my protection." The voice sounded concerned, now. "They are my subjects, but I cannot leave the room. Please, I need to speak with you, for their sake as well as yours."

Abraham turned to the others. "Wait here. If this is some sort of trap, the four of you defend yourselves as you can, and try to escape. Otherwise, wait for me here." Ignoring their arguments and protests, he moved to the door, quickly throwing the latch, then pulling the door open slightly to look out. Pulling it open further, he placed his entire head out into the hall, looking both directions, listening for any sounds, but all the gypsies seemed to have obeyed the Count, and returned to the kitchen.

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(So, is the Count being honest, or simply helping his gypsies whittle down the number of hunters in the castle?) 


	39. Chapter 39 : Trust

*I almost didn't get this written tonight. I wasn't sure how it would turn out until I tossed them both on the screen, and let them work it out for me...*

Trust

Abraham entered the room to find a frantically pacing vampire. As soon as he entered, the vampire focused on him, nostrils flaring and eyes quickly scanning him over. It was only then that the Count relaxed at all, but he was still plainly worried.

"Dracula. What is happening?" Terse and clear, head aching slightly, Abraham demanded an answer.

The vampire shrugged elegantly. "The Romani have arrived. For centuries, they have stayed in the castle during the winter. The season is difficult, and they are under my protection; I provide them a shelter warmer and safer than their wagons and tents. I also hunt for them, bringing them fresh meat, and provide them with shelter and safety. In turn, they pay for this with their service. Primarily, they bring me news; reports on the conditions of everything from roads to farms, bandits, and they also bring supplies. Pens, paper, and other items that need to be purchased. Mail and correspondance, things that I or my family wished."

Abraham looked at him coldly. "And food, I believe? A stable for the cold months."

The vampire looked rather surprised. "Of course. I do not require any of them to serve as a meal but few hesitate to oblige." The vampire frowned, and began pacing again. "They fear me, they serve me, but they recognize you as the ones that killed their men. They have...strong...family ties." He turned to face Abraham again, a bit hesitant, but deadly serious. "I cannot protect you when locked away, and when they realize this, it may go very badly. They will wish to free me, and they will want to kill you." Abraham noticed idly that the vampire made no mention of the others in the party; only himself.

Abraham looked at the monster, cold icing his eyes. "You will not be released from this room."

"Then stay in here yourself!" Dracula's eyes blazed back at Van Helsing's icy orbs, lips writhing in a snarl.

"I do not trust you." Abraham said this simply, clearly. "You are a monster, you have the blood of dozens of humans on your hands that I know of and hundreds and hundreds likely in your past. You connive, you lie, you skirt the truth whenever possible."

"AND YOU ARE MORTAL!" the Count was clearly distressed, fury and...fear?...flashing across his face.

Abraham paused, watching the Count closely. This...was not expected, although he had fully expected the Count to try and use this opportunity to gain his freedom, he hadn't been prepared for the...protectiveness...of the creature. As dishonest and selfish as the beast could be, it seemed genuinely concerned for Abraham's sake.

It would hurt nothing to humor the creature a bit.

"I'll stay in here, at least for a bit. Now, tell me about the Romani."

The vampire stared at him, slowly calming, before whirling to stalk to his coffin and seat himself upon the corner.

"They are Romani, gypsies, travellers. They have served me for generations, and once purchased their loyalty is assured. Each fall, the castle is prepared for their habitation, and each winter, they come to rest here for a month or two. They were not aware that any but Romani were here when they arrived. You surprised them; they thought you were common thieves, then realized that you were the murderers. I believe they also feared that I had been destroyed, though none are so foolish to admit that they thought me vulnerable." The Count's sharp teeth flashed in his amusement.

"They obey me. They are also very independent, and are inclined to act first and then ask permission or forgiveness after the fact." The Count's now-sober face watched Abraham's closely. It galled the monster's great pride, but if it would keep Abraham safe..."Please. Stay here with me. The others may take their chances, but not you."

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The monster seemed sincere, but he was a master of lies and deception. Then again...it had already had ample opportunity to escape. It could have simply allowed the Romani to kill the men, or obtained their assistance in escaping. It could still do so; a short command could bring a dozen men to destroy Abraham and unblock the door.

And yet, it was begging him to stay safe. It could all be a more complex plan, a more subtle manipulation on the creature's part. But what could it accomplish by doing so?

He turned his back to the vampire, now taking it in his turn to pace slowly across the floor, thinking, pondering, considering options.

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The vampire stared in surprise as the human moved to the door and removed the crucifix, then carefully began scraping off the flour paste. 


	40. Chapter 40 : Romani

*Yes, this is REALLY short. I'm also REALLY tired and have a poor track record for finishing what I start, so it's going to get posted.*

Romani

Van Helsing was an enigma to the vampire.

Every time Dracula thought he might understand the man, he did something completely unexpected, but always wise. The Count had been almost entirely honest with the man about the Romani, and he had indeed worried for the man's safety. But he had also been expecting the Romani, and had not told the small party of people because he had thought that he might have to kill them after all. If there were any...difficulties...the Romani were his hidden card that he would play as needed.

Having Romani deaths attributed to the Englishmen made it very easy to have those Englishmen killed by the angry gypsies, and the Count toyed briefly with the thought of having all but Abraham and perhaps Mina removed from the equation. It might undo all the progress he had been able to make with Van Helsing, or it might remove an impediment. Eating Johnathan was certainly appealing, and the other two were mere pawns, simple to sacrifice if he deemed it advantageous.

It was a consideration.

For now, though, it was time to speak with the Romani and lay down the rules in his domain. With a gracious nod at Abraham, he moved towards the doorway, slowed but no longer halted by the fragmented remains of the once-effective wards. 


	41. Chapter 41 : Negotiation

*I was dying for reviews, and since this story seems to trigger them...I put up another chapter!*

Negotiation

Dracula waited outside the door, clearly expecting Abraham to follow him. At Abraham's look, he said simply. "I'm not leaving you alone. Not yet." Nodding his comprehension, Abraham followed the vampire as he walked steadily towards the bedrooms, then stepped in front of the vampire to knock on the door of his own room and announce to the others that he was back.

There was a clunk as the latch was removed, and then the door was pulled slowly open. Upon sight of Dracula, the movement stopped, causing Abraham to curse at them softly.

"That's Abraham." Was Seward's wry observation, and the door was opened the rest of the way, all eyes on the vampire that had stopped and leaned against the door frame.

"I need to speak with the Romani." He stated this simply, but then continued, "and I also needed to speak with you as well. I can keep the Romani from causing problems for you, but I need to know your intentions towards my people. I am responsible for their well-being while they are in my home." His firm demeanor spoke of just how seriously he took that responsibility. "If you pose a threat to them, then I will need to send them away." Or remove the threat, he thought to himself, although he was careful to keep that from showing on his face.

Johnathan spoke, his face angry. "They are foul beasts of people! Thanks to their assistance, I was trapped here, nearly killed, and it's bad enough that Abraham didn't just stake you once and for all, but to be forced to stay with the Romani! I do not trust them, no more than I trust you!" The man was furious, and Dracula began to worry that perhaps the two groups could not be contained together in the castle.

"What will be needed? I do not wish to send them away, the weather is harsh in the winter time, and this is where they shelter during the worst of it." Pulling on their human hearts, Dracula added, "They have children, even babies, with them. Entire families, most of them entirely innocent and that you have never encountered before. And remember, those few that you have met...they were following my orders and the orders of my family." Serious red eyes bore into Johnathan. "Hate me if you will, but do not blame a servant for loyalty and obedience."

Tilting his head at the group, he continued. "I would like to go down and meet with them. That will give you the opportunity to discuss the situation privately." What he did not add was that he also intended to have a decent meal. "I will return and see what you have decided." With a gracious nod, he left the room, pulling the door shut behind him and wincing at the raised and angry voices.

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The Romani were very happy to see him. While they were all deeply respectful of him and the power that he wielded, they had also been told that he had been destroyed when the men had died. While deeply relieved that their lord was clearly not gone, having him present always made them a bit nervous.

"I have other guests in the castle. They are to be treated with respect. There is to be no theft, no borrowing, of any item which is suspected to be theirs." The Romani were well aware that he would quite ruthlessly and efficiently determine who the thief was, and of how he would deal with such an incident. "Also, they are not to be harassed or bothered in any way. I am aware that you are accustomed to staying in that hallway, and while they are residing here, I require that you avoid it." His red eyes moved across the room, looking at each of them quite seriously. "This is for your own safety as well as theirs. I do not need any misunderstandings, contrived or real. Avoid them. You may select another wing of the house, and I will allow a small number of you to move useful items from the unused rooms where you regularly reside into the new section." Once again, a stern look. "Choose your new rooms, and begin to prepare them."

"Now." and at this, he relaxed a bit. "I need to feed, and within the next few days, I will be taking reports on my territory." A smiling young woman pushed forward through the men, one that he recognized quite well from past encounters. He nodded approvingly to her, then led her out of the room to one of those unused bedrooms.

She was a very willing partner, fully aware of the pleasure a vampire's bite could bring, and clearly anticipating the experience. Dracula had been far too long without, and fully enjoyed finally being able to indulge himself with an educated and experienced partner. He left her, dozing happily on the dusty mattress, and returned to the Romani. He was far too hungry for a single meal to suffice, but the Romani were well aware that the silver hair meant more than one meal was in order, and he found a handful of women arguing at his return. It was good to be wanted. And much, much better to have a stomach full of hot, fresh, fragrant blood.

It was well over an hour before he finally felt satisfied, and any more blood would have been simply wasteful gorging. He could feel the blood in his body, lightening his steps, could feel his powers expanding, wrapping through his home, senses heightening, able to detect each heartbeat. The Romani, while upset at having to change their living quarters, were not fools enough to argue with their Lord or question his decree. He could have told them to sleep in the stables, and they would have obeyed. They had taken a few large rooms, ones with great fireplaces, and were busy with brooms and rags to scrub the centuries of acquired filth from the floor and walls. Pleased with their industry and obedience, he left to find Abraham.  



	42. Chapter 42 : Dishonesty

*Sorry for no updates yesterday. I wasn't feeling well at all and couldn't manage one, although I did manage to feel really guilty. So, tonight, I cranked this one out. It's pretty sad, but I hope you enjoy it.*

Dishonesty

He was worried. He had to admit this. He needed, truly NEEDED, a human master. It was harder and harder each day to determine what thoughts were his, more difficult to ignore the temptation of power, and remembering why he kept saying "no" seemed more and more foolish each day.

He did not want a male master. He did not. Not again, not ever, but he also did not want to go insane. If only a Romani had been acceptable, if only Mina had not been turned against him, if only he'd had the time in England to find another strong woman that did not have a needy louse of a husband to drag about after her.

He was out of time. He'd already nearly killed Mina. Abraham would have to do. Were he female, he'd be perfect. Strong, honest, a leader whose intelligence and integrity he would be content to follow, and even a sense of humor and appreciation of the absurd. He did not see in Abraham the sort of cruelty that he had seen in others, before, but he might be...tolerable. Better the risk of abuse under a human that was destined to die in a few decades than the surety of insanity for the remainder of what could be a very long existence, indeed.

These thoughts turned over and over in his head as he approached the room where he had left Abraham and the others to argue. They were reasonable people, and the Romani were terrified of him; sharing an enormous castle without conflict between the two parties was entirely doable, until Abraham hauled him away to England, that is. As he approached the room, he heard whispers. A few hours ago, he would have missed them, but his well-fed flesh had superb senses, and though he was far away and around a corner, he could pick out the conversation with ease.

He paused, foot still in the air, and then set it down, slowly, as the import of the discussion reached him.

They wanted to sneak out tomorrow. Convince him they would be staying, that Abraham was considering his offer, let him fall into his coffin unaware of their true intent. Leave, early in the morning, trapping him in the coffin with silver, immobilizing him with a stake through the heart, chop of his head again, hide the coffin to slow the Romani from finding him, and then leave. Take the horses, leave the wagon, focus on speed, and vanish. They hoped to reach the town and the train and be gone before he could recover and reach them. The voices were earnest, arguing, pleading, and determined, and Abraham...Abraham did not deny them. He would be left alone again. Alone.

The hall dipped and spun before him, voices in him screaming. Betrayed, betrayed, they needed to die for this! Destroy them! His own voice screamed at him that it was over, it was lost, to give up. Sorrow came; the delayed mourning for his lost brides, the loss of Lucy, and now, the loss of the last hope of his sanity.

Red tears streaming down his cheeks, he left, making his way to the deep depths of his castle, down to the crypts. There, surrounded by the ash that had been his family, in the cold and dark, with only sorrow, memories, and the crazed souls in his head for company.

He'd been spoiled by the unwilling company of the englishmen for too long, too eased by the thought of Mina or Abraham saving him, and the loss and ashes of his dreams flung him back into an abyss of pain and loss, no different than the one he'd crawled from only a week ago.

His chest hurt this time too, but there was no stake causing the agony, only a broken heart and broken dreams. He would keep on fighting, keep on searching for a master, but he no longer had any real hope of finding one. In a few months, "he" would be no more, and he mourned the unrelenting loss of his self and the loss of his family, the betrayal by the man whom he had trusted and in whose integrity he had placed his faith, and the loss of Mina and Lucy.

He had been so happy, so sure that he had his problems solved. Abraham had released him, shown trust and wisdom, the Romani had arrived, providing the food that he so desperately needed, and his future had seemed so promising.

Gone, all gone.

He remained there, unmoving and insensible, red tears down his cheeks, body curled against the stone bier of his lost child, as the night wore on, finding oblivion gratefully as the sun rose. 


	43. Chapter 43 : Escape

*yes, another chapter!*

Escape

The vampire had never returned to the room. After a few hours, Abraham had taken a pair of pistols and cautiously gone to look for the missing monster. The few Romani that were still awake had given him suspicious and unfriendly looks, but otherwise avoided him entirely. Mina had chosen to use the remaining supplies they had brought to cobble together a small meal in the kitchen, with Johnathan and Arthur guarding her. Abraham and Arthur had remained in the room, unwilling to leave their items unguarded.

Eventually, everyone had gone to sleep, too tired to wait up any longer for the missing Count. Abraham had been the first one up, and had immediately gone to check the Count's coffin.

The lid was open, and the coffin was empty.

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The others, even Mina, took this as a sign that they should leave, now. The Count was missing, but the Romani were still avoiding them, and it was not yet noon. They could be well down the road, miles and miles away, before the sun set. If they kept going through the night, resting the horses as little as possible, they could be all the way to the town by late the next day, and be gone on a train, leaving this land and its inhabitants and the bloodsucking monster far behind.

Everyone else was convinced that after the vampire had been chased from England once, it was not likely to return; and once they were on the train, it would not be able to catch them, either.

Abraham had to admit it was tempting. He could leave all this behind. But they had done their best to convince him already, and he was staying. He had always been cursed with curiosity, and that curiousity had led to a study of vampires. And now, he had a powerful vampire willing to answer questions, one that did not seem willing to harm him, was even protective of him, and this opportunity might never come again.

And guilt, too, played its part in his mind. The vampire might very well be manipulating them, lying for its own unknown and unknowable purposes. It wasn't human, it did not think or act like a human. But if it had been truthful, even partly truthful, then leaving it would be unconscionably cruel.

Abraham tried to argue the others into leaving without him if they were so desperate to go. The vampire hadn't brought them to the castle, they had come of their own free will. It hadn't imprisoned them once they were present, had not threatened them at all. In addition, the weather outside was cold and unpredictable, the mountains treacherous, to a group accustomed to the milder climes and level lands of England. They could leave whenever they wished, but he made no bones about how foolish he considered their decision, and he would not be leaving.

Part of it was pure stubbornness, he admitted that. But he did not want to leave, not yet.

The others packed quickly, throwing clothes into travel bags, and within minutes they had grabbed what few items remained and gone to the stables. The wagon would be going with them after all; no one wanted to leave Quincy and, with Abraham staying as a sacrifical lamb, perhaps the monster would let them go?

As the other four clattered down the stairs, Abraham turned to walk a different direction, feeling alone and more than a bit frightened. But he wanted to find that vampire, preferably while it still slept, and with a half-dozen torches in hand, he began his descent into the dark chambers far below the castle. 


	44. Chapter 44 : Isolated

*another short chapter...but at least they're showing up!*

Isolated

The passageways they had sealed off with Host were now open, the Host removed, not even crumbs remaining. It would have been frightening if Abraham thought the vampire had been able to do so himself, but a small scattering of tiny droppings and a few larger ones showed the missing host to have been removed by a more natural cause. No matter that it was the bread and body of Christ to a human, to a mouse or a rat, it was simply food.

He had been tempted to search the upper levels first, but the crypt and other chambers seemed a more logical choice. The castle had more inhabitants then the six of them, now, and he doubted the creature had remained upstairs. The fact that it had not returned to its coffin ate at Abraham; granted, it had willingly spent a day in his own bed, but to not return to its coffin still seemed so strange, and he fretted. Had the vampire left them entirely? Had some injury befallen it, perhaps the Romani had betrayed it somehow?

With the torch flickering in his hand, a handful more stuck through his belt, he descended alone down the dark stairs into the domain of the dead and the undead.

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The vampire was here.

The first few rooms had been empty, bare chambers, a bare altar in what was possibly a funeral chamber. A series of stone sarcophagi, with faces of long-dead rulers etched upon their surfaces, and the wooden coffins and bodies within gone to dust and splinters and bones as the centuries had ground on, were lined along the walls, but the rooms held nothing unexpected. Abraham continued onward, torch flickering, failing to light the room enough to relieve any concern, but somewhat helpful. Uncertain of how much of a catacomb the chambers might be, he placed a torch in the holder on the wall of a chamber, hoping it would still be burning when time came to leave.

It was an unneeded precaution. The doors were all open, and the layout surprisingly straightforward. A series of rooms, with rooms opening off of them, but not branching, not confusing, easy to navigate. A set of stone steps, leading down to a trio of additional rooms, then another, narrow, twisting set of stairs, hard to find, difficult to see, and that he might well have missed without Johnathan's clear directions.

Those steps took him to the chamber where the three vampires had been destroyed.

And here, he found the Count.

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It was still daylight out, and would be for another hour or so, so the creature slept. To Van Helsing's great surprise, it had not selected a coffin or sarcophagus or any enclosure to sleep in, but had simply curled up between the stone containers holding the ashes of the three vampires that they had destroyed. As Abraham knelt by it, concerned, he lifted the hair from the face and saw the tracks of the tears. Something had upset it, upset it greatly, caused it to retreat below the surface to the chamber it had slept in for so many years, leaving the safety and comfort of its coffin behind. It had chosen to isolate itself, and he wondered why, given its professed need for companionship.

With a frown, he scooped the sleeping beast up, carrying it back to its coffin. The vampire never stirred, unaware and unmoving as Abraham carried the slight form up the passages, finally placing it carefully in the coffin it had abandoned. He settled himself on the chair, watching patiently, thinking over the sad scene he had found when he reached the vampire, waiting for the sun to set.  



	45. Chapter 45 : Revelation

*another short chapter, but it's up, at least! Thanks for the reviews!*

Revelation

As the vampire slept, Abraham took time to look him over. The light was better in the room, the addition of a light from the candles helping him see the vampire more clearly. The creature had fed, although Abraham wondered how many Romanis had been sacrificed to its appetite. He doubted they had needles and such to draw blood themselves, able to donate instead of being drained dry. The site of its well-fed face curdled his stomach, and it was all he could do not to stake the murderous monster then and there. Instead, he left briefly, intending to go to the kitchen for a drink and perhaps find something to eat, far from the monster for the time being.

It did not occur as he expected. The Romani were curious about him, well aware that the others had left hours ago, and stared at him as he poured a mug of water from the bucket. As he turned to leave, he noticed a pair of marks on the neck of one of the women...vampiric bite marks? Lucy had borne a similar pair, but she had been weak, dying of blood loss, and this woman was up and about, cooking in the kitchen, and had been chatting with the other Romani when he entered.

She noticed his stare, and frowned at him, speaking sharply in her own tongue. Embarrassed, but intrigued, he tapped the side of his own neck, then pointed to hers, brows raised questioningly. She turned from him for a brief conversation with the other women, then with a smug laugh, beckoned him over for a closer look.

Bite marks, definitely. But she was no ghoul, no monster? A tap on his shoulder caused him to turn, and see another Romani standing there, with marks on her throat, too.

Vampires could bite, and not drain a victim, not change them to a ghoul? Another older woman was called over by the others, and while her neck had no new marks on it, dozens of small scars clustered along the sides, hiding in the wrinkles and age spots but still clearly the sign of many, many bites over many, many years.

Abraham was stunned, confused. He had thought that vampires always drained their victims to weakness, even death, that enough bites would cause a human to change into a monster, and yet chattering about him in a busy kitchen was proof positive that he had been very wrong in his conclusions. He came to himself long enough to nod his gratitude to the women, and turned to leave when the heavy hand of a male Romani landed on his shoulder, pulling him back. Startled, Abraham began to protest, only to be gently turned and pushed towards the trestle table. The man said something, in a friendly tone, but Abraham had no grasp of the language. However, the bowl of steaming stew that appeared on the table and the chunk of rich black bread needed no translation.

With an appreciative smile, he joined them in their meal of thick stew, filled with large bites of ham and nearly solid from the beans and flour in it. It was spicy, hot, and tasty, and he didn't realize until he was polishing the bowl just how hungry he had been. He thanked the Romani, aware that they couldn't understand him, but by their smiles and nods, they knew what he meant, then, seeing the red light coming through the window, he hurried off to the Count.

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He still slept, looking peaceful, and the thick black hair and full lips that bespoke a full meal no longer looked anywhere near as revolting. Knowing that he had not killed to eat made the vampire's former statements about eating willing Romani more believable, made the creature seem more honest, less of a monster to Abraham. Pondering his bloodied appearance, Abraham pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dipped it briefly in his mug of water, and began to clean the vampire's face.

As he gently rubbed the stains away, the red eyes flickered open, looking puzzled, confused, and then focusing on Abraham as he leaned over the coffin. Immediately, the vampire snarled, snapping up at Abraham and nearly connecting as the man jerked himself out of the way in the nick of time.

Backing away a few steps, Abraham stared at the monster in horrified shock, bloody cloth dangling from his fingers, as the vampire stared back, his expression a mirror of the man's. 


	46. Chapter 46 : Bond

*FINALLY, FINALLY a longer chapter. And an important one. Yes, FINALLY!*

Bond

"You're here." It was such a revelation, such a shock, to see Abraham present, not gone, fleeing back to England. It fought with the instinctive terror of finding the man leaning over his helpless body, and won, leaving his mind dazed and reeling. The man was here.

Why?

Abraham looked confused, opening his mouth to speak, and Dracula interupted him. "I heard you. You planned to leave, to stake me and go, abandon me." He snarled, remembering the heartbreaking anguish at the thought, what he had experienced so recently. "What happened, your horse turn up lame? Couldn't find me in time to put a stake in me?" He was snarling now, eyes glowing, furious. If that bastard had found him earlier in the day, he had no doubt he'd be in agony, sealed and staked and left behind. He wanted to tear Abraham's throat out for this betrayal, but the rush of anger that had given him such a surge of emotional energy ran out, leaving him hollow and broken, mentally torn and tattered. He sagged, eyes closing, slumping in his coffin, only to hear the man speak.

"I...no. The others left." Abraham reached towards the monster, stopping when Dracula hissed at him, fangs flashing angrily, and pulled back his hand, settling back into the chair. "They left, but I stayed." He leaned forward, emphasizing this to the creature. "I. STAYED." Eyes firmly focused on the monster, he continued. "They were frightened, upset, when they saw you walking the hallway, unrestrained, and they left. They wanted me to come. They spent a great deal of time trying to convince me to leave with them, and I did not. I am the only one here now, Count." At the stunned look on his face, he continued. "I am here. I am not leaving."

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He lied. He lied. He would not stay. He was here, biding his time while the others made good their escape, perhaps, but he would not stay. Dracula could not bring himself to trust the man again, not after the pain and misery and loss of the previous night. Instead, he stood gracefully, leaving his coffin, walking out the door.

Abraham followed, finding the monster standing a few feet down the hall, staring vaguely out the window, motionless.

"Dracula." Red eyes turned to stare at him, the anger in them visible, but banked. Abraham clearly braced himself, then continued. "You do not trust me, and I do not trust you. We are both aware of this. It will take time, and I will stay until we understand each other better."

Bitter, the vampire shot back. "And then what? I'll wake early, to overhear you having a discussion with the Romani in a year, about how to destroy me? I'll leave to hunt, and come back to an empty castle the next day?" He hissed angrily. "You planned to leave me, abandon me. THIS TIME you changed your mind, or perhaps you only delayed? Letting your friends get further away before following after?" He hissed, eyes glowing with delight. "Too bad they don't speak Romani, they'd have been warned. There's a blizzard forming, your friends will never make it to the town." With a sharp grin, he pushed past the man, stalking back to the room where his coffin rested.

Abraham took a brief look out the window. It was dark, too dark to see anything with his human eyes, but there were no stars, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. A few moments passed as Abraham strained to make out anything, to determine if the vampire spoke the truth, and as he watched...the first tiny flake drifted through the window. Suddenly frightened for his friends, he turned, racing back to the vampire.

"MONSTER." The vampire turned to him, hissing. "You have a choice." Abraham's eyes sparked coldly. "I will leave to find them, try to bring back my friends, and I will not stand idly by while they die. You may either help me, go with me...or you may wait here, knowing that I, too, am out in the blizzard." The monster moved, suddenly appearing in front of Abraham.

"Fleeing from me yourself? I knew it. You'd choose death rather than my company." The anger and rage in the vampire's face was a thin coat over a deep hurt; Abraham suddenly realized that the vampire must have been abandoned before, and simply expected it to happen again. It was more resignation and a fatal acceptance that was reflected in the beast and his refusal to believe that Abraham would willingly stay with him, that Abraham would honestly wish the vampire to accompany him as he tried to rescue his friend. The monster turned away from him, moving towards the door.

"No." His firm voice pulled the vampire's head around. "I chose to stay with you, but did not choose to condemn my friends to death in the mountains. If you decide to remain here while I leave, then you, yourself, choose to let me risk death. The situation has changed. I want my friends safe, secure, back in the castle, and I am seriously considering accepting the bond with you. But if I do not have the first, then the second may not happen." He stepped closer to the monster, eyes locked on the red ones of the beast. "Help me save them, and then I will save you."

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Humans, so...capricious. He hissed, uncertain. He thought the man would simply flee, ignoring his warning of a blizzard, convinced that he lied, and chase his friends off into death. It was possible that the man truly did mean to leave and save his friends...but had only remained as long as he did in an attempt to give them a chance to escape. Escape! They could have left when they chose! It was so hard to trust a human, when he could not terrify him, could not control him...the man could be lying, could be honest. He could simply be waiting for dawn, having shown the vampire that hiding was useless, and ready to stake him as soon as the sun came up.

But he could also be about to walk out into the night, into the brewing blizzard, and die.

Minutes ticked by, as the vampire and human stared at each other, pondering their own thoughts, and trying to determine what motivated the other. Abraham was well aware that each minute that passed was another minute towards danger for the other members of his small party, and with a final glare, he moved to the door, pushing past the vampire.

Once again, a male hand stopped him, turning him. This time, there was no stew, but the hesitant, nervous face of a strangely frightened monster.

"A blood exchange." The voice was so quiet, so...hesitant. "A drop of blood, shared between us. It will allow you...my thoughts...my feelings. And to a lesser extent, I will have yours." The eyes blinked at him. "If we have been honest with each other, then we will know." A small flash, a spark in those somber eyes. "If you have lied to me, I will know." A white hand reached out, grasping Abraham's wrist, and lifting his own hand in its chill grip. A single, sharp nail hovered over the pad of a finger, the red eyes riveted on Abraham.

"One drop, willingly shared. It will fade in a few days, and we will have our minds private again. But if you plan to leave, now, there is no time to build trust, no time to decide if you are true in your word." A small quirk of the monster's pale lips. "No time for you to decide the same about me." Pause. "Will you give me that drop, and take mine?"

Abraham stared. A drop of blood? What monstrous plot was in its head now? Straight behind that thought of accusation came the memory of the vampire sleeping in his bed rather than hunting them down, the blood-streaked sorrow visible as it crouched down in the darkness of the crypt, the look of betrayal when it declared that he would leave it.

A risk.

And a solution, maybe.

If he were a coward, he would not be here, facing down an angry vampire, leaving into the teeth of a blizzard to try and rescue his friends.

Watching the vampire closely, he lifted his hand up, touching his fingertip to the sharp point of the monster's talon.

A nod, a sharp prick, and then cold lips on his finger, removing that taste of blood. Eyes that glowed red at him, and then a thin, white finger, drop of red blood screaming in contrast, in front of him. Refusing to think what he was doing, Abraham quickly put out his own tongue, swiping that tiny smidge of blood off the vampire.

And then his mind exploded.

Fears, concerns, worry...the vampire's emotions were his own, the thoughts tumbling through his mind. Inhuman, cold, and icy, but in that ice was reflected human emotions. The thoughts were so manipulative, so removed from his own way of thinking, that it was a horrifying shock, and yet...as Abraham found his mental footing in this onrush, this avalanche, of emotion and thought and mind, one thing became very clear, very obvious.

The vampire...had been truthful.

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In less than half an hour, a Romani coach, pulled by a team of four shaggy, thick-coated, sturdy ponies, rolled out the door of the stables. On the seat was a Romani driver, wrapped in fur, eyes alone visible. In the wagon, surrounded by blankets and a small stack of firewood, worried for his friends as the snow began to fall more and more heavily against the window, was Abraham.

Far ahead of them, gone invisible immediately in the dark and the snow, ran a black wolf. Around his neck was a thin leather strip, a small container of lucifers wrapped in a watertight oiled cloth tied tightly.

The wolf flew down the path, tracking the missing, anxious to find them before they froze, leaving the driver and the ponies and his Master to follow as they could. 


	47. Chapter 47 : Blizzard

*I hadn't planned on another chapter, but this one was easy to write... Thanks for the reviews, please keep 'em coming!*

Blizzard

Dracula ran through the night. Full-fed, he wasn't going to tire, much faster than a normal wolf, far faster than horses, and intimately familiar with the terrain. There was joy, too, in each step. He had a Master. The bond was not complete, there was much left to do, but Abraham...he raced onwards, tracing the man's mind with his own...Abraham was so much more than he had expected.

He was saved. No voices in his mind, none but his own and the quieter, hot human thoughts of Abraham, warming him. And those thoughts...he could not see them, not clearly, but he could feel them, find glimpses of ideas, of plans, and knew he could, finally, safely place his trust in a man.

Free of the voices. Free of the lingering threat of insanity. As long as Abraham was safe, he was safe. And for now, the man was snug inside the sturdiest and warmest of the Romani's roaming homes, being driven down the road behind four of the best ponies, with a skilled driver at the reins. The storm wasn't yet so thick as to end visibility for a human's eyes, and soon the wagon would be in a lowered roadbed; even blind, they would not be able to stray from the road!

Abraham was safe, yes. And he had felt the concern for the others, the firm commitment to their safety, how very important they were to his Master. And now, now that there was such a bond, a link, how very important they were to him, too.

Wolf muzzle gaping in a human grin, he raced onwards, already miles down the trail, in a cloud of white.

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The horses had been fluffy and rested, well-brushed, their winter coats thick and warm, eyes bright, and ready for a strenuous trip. Mina was bundled up on the wagon, the still form of Quincy behind her. They had kept his remains outside in the cold, and thankfully he was not decaying, though the thought was morbid and none voiced it. His stiff, fully frozen form RATTLED behind her, and she ignored it, sinking deeper into her coat as the road flew past under the horses' hooves. Ahead of her rode two of the men, behind her another two, faceless in the dark. Lanterns on the wagon corners kept it visible to them, but the snow was flying thicker and thicker.

What had been a flurry had become a snowfall, and as night approached, it was becoming a blizzard. For a moment, Mina completely lost sight of both front riders, a swirl of snow hiding them from her, then fading to reveal a single man in the saddle, the other one still invisible in the gray light of dusk.

"STOP!" she shouted, or tried to. The cold had affected her more than she thought, the dry air turning her shout into a cracked wheeze. Swallowing, she shouted again, and was deeply relieved when, after a few seconds, both horses appeared from the snow ahead of her. With that, she pulled back on the reins, halting her team, then turning to look behind her.

No one was there.

Arthur, cheeks bright red in the cold, sidled his horse up to the wagon. "What happened?"

"Arthur, you fool!" She was furious, worried about the men behind her. "I lost sight of you in this snow, and it's getting worse. And where are the others!" Her fear lasted only a moment, for a shout from the white walls about them was followed shortly afterwards by first one, then the other missing rider.

"Your lanterns were visible. You were gone, the wagon had gone, but every little bit we'd see your lanterns light up, and just hoped you'd stop."

And now that they were stopped, that wind was biting into them, picking up mercilessly. They had planned to ride through the night, but another quarter-mile in the dark and snow, and they would be dead.

"We're done." Her serious eyes found all four faces, or tried to. Even now, they were less and less visible. "This is going to be a blizzard." Thinking back on stories Quincy had shared of the storms of America's West, she continued, taking the role of leader now that Abraham was gone, lost to the beast's clutches. "Tie your horses to the back of the wagon. Keep your hands on them, do not wander off. When tied, get in the wagon." In that brief pause, the snow had become thicker, the light dimmer, and the men vague shapes in the blowing snow. Their thick gloves slowed them, but within a few minutes the horses were tethered and then men seated in the wagon, the bedrolls opened and draped across them. Just in time, too, for with the falling sun came a stronger and stronger wind, whipping away what little warmth they had.

Mina's mind turned over furiously as she eased the horses forward. They needed to keep the horses moving, or the beasts might freeze as well. Not too fast, for breathing deeply would scorch their lungs with cold. Her mind tumbled over the memory of the path they were taking, but she remembered so little of it. At some point, they would find themselves in a windbreak, and there, they would stop.

Minutes crawled by, the men asking her what she was doing. She explained, tersely.

"We're likely to freeze to death in this wind. It's night, and it's going to get much, much colder. For now, I'm keeping the horses moving, and you need to stay as warm as possible. Ask if anyone remembers seeing any shelter on the way. If not, when we reach an area where the wind is blocked from the road, even a bit, we're stopping. We'll use the wagon for shelter until the storm ends." In the quiet privacy of her mind, she wondered how long they would last, and if they could outlast the storm. If it blew over in a few hours, like the English storms she knew, they might well live. If it were to last longer, they might not make it alive. They were as doomed as Abraham.

The wind suddenly cut out, and she stopped the wagon, the relief from its steady roar almost too much in and of itself. With difficulty, she crawled into the wagon, giving what directions she could.

"We're going to need to get saddles off horses, give them enough rope so they can turn their backs to the wind. Harnesses need off too. We'll tip the wagon on its side, providing a windbreak. Pile the saddles up, use them to make another small windbreak. We need fire, we can't see to find wood. We may end up burning parts of the wagon for fuel. For now, I need someone to help me with the team. We'll keep a hand on the horses, DO NOT let go, or we can lose you. Get the reins off, tie them to you, the other end is tied to the wagon." Moving, reaching the team mostly by feel, for the black and snow made the wagon's lights useless only a few feet away, she stripped the tack. Near her, the vague bulk of a man stripped the other horse. Reins first, and tied about her waist; she hoped the other had done the same. And she was glad, very glad, they had; the wagon was only a couple yards away, and entirely invisible.

She walked the horse back to the other horses, tieing it to another horse, the mute male form doing the same, having to untie the rein half-way there, it simply wasn't long enough, but she could feel along the cold bodies of the horses to find the wagon again. Half-frozen, she felt her way back, stripping the horse of its saddle, then stumbling back to the wagon. At her return, the others exited, following her instructions to be careful, and removing the saddles.

John and Arthur, she believed it was them, were working to tip the wagon over. Taking a rein, she backed away, into safety, but completely blind. The loud crash of the wagon as it landed on its side was audible, and she followed the thin leather strip back to it. With heavy labor and caution, it was a matter of a few minutes work, and they were huddled in the tipped wagon, one side serving as a ceiling, the others and the back blocking what wind still existed, the wood side under them shielding them from the snow. The saddles, piled in front of them, were helping block some of the wind, and the few supplies were mixed in with them in an attempt to block a little more. The blankets, coats, every scrap of clothing, was wound about and draped over them as they huddled in the bitter cold. The horses were invisible, beyond the tiny ring of light that the lanterns at their feet provided. They'd done their best for the beasts, tethering them in a long string close to the wagon, out of the wind as best they could, and they could only hope that some would make it through the storm.

The snow continued to fall, the temperature to drop. The lanterns gave off a tiny amount of heat, but it was sucked away by the vast cold land about them. The horses, normally so quiet, moaned, and human teeth chattered. Arthur had them all flexing their hands and feet, tensing their arm and leg muscles, keeping their blood moving as they shivered and shook. They needed a fire, but there was no kindling. Even lighting the wheels would provide them with only a few short moments of heat. John, familiar with hypothermia as a doctor, got them talking, listening carefully for the dragging speech and slurs of a person that was freezing.

It was not good, what he was hearing. Each of them was cold, so cold, though they shivered, though every blanket was piled on them, it was simply too cold, the night more bitter than any of them had ever planned on.

He was nearly ready to suggest burning the wagon, and using the light to try and find wood, aware that it would cost them their only shelter but so desperate for heat. As he opened his mouth to say so, the wolf arrived. 


	48. Chapter 48 : Saved

*Eh, one more before bed. As always, reviews are great; advice, insight, suggestions, even a quick "I liked it" or "can we have one from so-and-so's viewpoint" are appreciated.*

Saved

The wagon eased to a stop, and Abraham immediately flung open the door, only to find himself instantly chilled by the bitter, bitter wind. Within moments, each of the lost people were being handed into the wagon by Dracula himself, face serious. A brazier burned in the small wagon, heating it. While not warm, it was still far, far more temperate than the storm raging outside. Each person was stripped of their frozen, snow-coated clothing, their feet and hands shoved into warmed lambswool bags, each with a hot wrapped stone at the bottom, bundled into a warm blanket, and pushed onto a bench. The driver joined Abraham in caring for them, clucking his tongue over their white fingers, showing Abraham how to massage the worst of them, trying to move blood into the tissues before they froze entirely and died.

If the vampire hadn't helped, they would never have made it in time. Abraham had been inside the little rolling house, unable to see what was occurring, although the blizzard made that moot anyways. The vampire had apparently created a great bonfire upon finding the stranded travelers, breaking down and burning entire dead pines. Live saplings had been ripped out, great bushy green limbs torn off, and these bushy evergreens then leaned against the tipped wagon, creating a shelter that stopped all wind and helped trap the heat of a smaller fire.

The horses had all been saved, too, pulled close to that great roaring blaze. He'd walked them about the fire, keeping them moving, rubbing ears, keeping them alive and unfrozen, and finally the horses had limbered up a bit, able to move, no longer near-death themselves. As soon as horses and men were stabilized, no longer dying, he'd raced back off into the dark to find Abraham.

The ponies were slow, blinded by the dark and the snow, but a blizzard was no impediment to a vampire. He'd taken a lead in his toothy wolfen jaws, pulling them after him at a canter rather than the slow, cautious trot or steady walk they had been previously limited to. Being typically phlegmatic Romani ponies, they had shied at the wolf initially but with the steadying reassurance of their driver and the view of the wolf's tail instead of his teeth, they had apparently convinced themselves it was simply a large dog, and trotted obediently down the road after it.

It was an hour before the wagon rolled up to the half-frozen remains of the camp, but the blaze of the fire was still visible even through the snow, a hundred yards away. The blizzard had weakened to a mere storm, and the bond with the vampire told Abraham that he might well have had something to do with this. His steely gray hair, rather than the rich black he'd begun the night with, supported this when Abraham saw the dimmed color as the vampire handed the people through the door.

As Abraham cared for the people inside the wagon, the vampire cared for the beasts outside it. The supplies had included a great many thick, warm horse blankets, and each horse and pony was wrapped in one. He boiled up water by the fire, creating a thick mash for each half-frozen equine, then giving them warmed water to drink as well. They were moved to the shelter by the wagon, the limbs now used to make a make-shift corral and block the wind. While little snow now fell, what was present was drifting, and it was not long before the snow blew up against the tall stacks of pine, creating a solid wall and keeping the horses warmer.

By then, even the great Romanian monster was feeling the effects of the prolonged cold and unending movement and effort. With the horses safe, plenty of wood remaining for his bonfire, and the humans warm inside the wagon, he took a moment to relax, swaying briefly with an unexpected bout of fatigue and dizziness. Part of that was Abraham's, he realized, the human tired and worn after such prolonged stress, and then up so late at night as well, so late that morning was only an hour or so away. With their bond, he could FEEL the man's fatigue and exhaustion, and it sapped the last of his own energy.

Tired, but satisfied with what he had accomplished, the vampire made his way back to the wagon. He could hear the people talking, possibly to him, but he was simply too tired now to care. He'd been without his coffin the night before, and in a bed before that, he'd been emotionally wrung out over the last few weeks, then physically exerted himself to a tremendous extent in the bitter cold, including a bit of weather-working. He ignored the voices, none of them belonging to Abraham. Instead, he pulled a blanket off the small remaining stack, wrapped it about his shoulders, collapsed into an empty corner, and promptly fell asleep. 


	49. Chapter 49 : Returns

*Time for the party to make their battered way back to the castle!*

Returns

It was late afternoon before the wagon began rolling back towards the castle. By them, the snow had stopped falling entirely, and the temperature was creeping back upwards. Inside the wagon, it was cramped, but warm.

The wagon was normally used as a rolling home for a small family and the interior setup demonstrated this. At the end by the driver was a small brazier used for cooking, which also kept the driver's seat slightly warmed via the chimney, a very intelligent arrangement. It had been stocked up with charcoal, and was keeping the rest of the cozy wagon somewhat warm as well. Narrow cots lined the walls, bunked two high, and each bed was currently occupied by a sleeping human. The thin floor between the beds was piled with coats and blankets, and Abraham slept soundly on it. Arthur, being the tallest of the group, had taken the floor rather than one of the shorter beds, but the vampire had been vaguely awake at the time and irate at Arthur's proximity.

Dracula had taken the end of the wagon for himself, sitting on the floor and wrapped up in blanket as well, and as far from the others as he could be while remaining in the wagon. Abraham was aware of a low-level anger and discomfort in the monster, but with the sun bright outside, the Count had clearly decided that a forced proximity to the exhausted group was the lesser of two evils. He hadn't seemed aggressive; nothing in him made Abraham fear for the safety of anyone else, just upset, irritable, tired, and Abraham had himself fallen asleep. He was nowhere near as worn as the group that had been trapped out in the blizzard, but as a result, he'd been up all night helping them and needed sleep as well. He would be helping take the other wagon back later in the day, but for the morning, he slept.

The driver had roused around noon, and after checking on his passengers and getting directions from the Count, had roused Abraham as well. The two of them had taken time to work on the horses's hooves, removing balls of ice from a few of them. Abraham was not skilled with the beasts; that had been Mina's and Quincy's forte, but he was able to help somewhat, feed them, melt snow for their water, and load the wagon up. The peevish monster had taken a few moments after waking to tilt the battered wagon upright yet again before returning to glower at the others from the back of the caravan. The wheels wobbled somewhat, and the Romani had spent time tinkering with the wagon, making what repairs he could.

After a quick lunch, the cart horses were hitched, the others tethered in a line behind the wagons, and the slow journey back through the snow to the castle began again. The four ponies plowed through the snow, their sturdy legs breaking a trail for the taller horses, their pace steady but slow. As darkness fell, Abraham was unsurprised to see the vampire leave the caravan; he'd felt the creature wake, and it was clearly unhappy to be with the others in the cramped confines of the gypsy wagon. The emotions were not quite human emotions, but anger, irritation, and what appeared to be a sort of nervous worry? fear? were present. It was difficult to read the creature, difficult to tell for certain, but even without knowing the specifics of what was going through its head, Abraham knew that it was NOT happy about waking up in the wagon with no Abraham, and four sleeping humans.

The vampire leaped gracefully down from the wagon, waiting at the trail side until Abraham's wagon was abreast, then casually walked through the deep snow alongside the wagon seat. The beast's strength was uncanny, the knee-deep and more snow slowed it down no more than if there had merely been a light dusting. Abraham had attempted to make a bit of conversation with the vampire, but Dracula seemed uninterested, content to merely be out in the cold clear away, away from the stifling confines of the little caravan. A seat in the back of the wagon had also been offered, but the vampire insisted that he preferred to walk. He was positively radiating a nervous energy, probably remnants from being enclosed in the caravan, and Abraham did not insist.

Abraham was startled to see the vampire suddenly twist about, eyes glowing brightly, sniffing hungrily at the air. The sense of bloodlust, of predatory glee, that rolled off the beast nearly knocked the man from his seat. With a purring tone to his voice, and a grin that was much too sharp, the vampire finally spoke. "Deer, there are deer nearby, and I always hunt for the Romani in the winter." Head cocked a bit, the vampire continued. "We could fit a few fat does or a buck in the back of this wagon..." The creature trailed off, eyes bright and fixed on Abraham, expectancy in every muscle of his body, and it took Abraham a few heartbeats to realize something rather extraordinary.

He was waiting...for permission.

Far too proud to simply ask, but, unexpectedly...he was...subservient. Wanted to be given permission to leave and hunt, though Abraham could feel the urge to do so beating through the monster.

Surprised and somewhat touched, Abraham nodded. "That there is, indeed. And fresh venison would be a treat. Not too many, the horses are too tired to pull a heavy load, but an excellent idea. Do you need me to wait here for you?"

Eager to be off, the vampire only paused briefly, shaking his head, then darting off the road towards the trees. Abraham had expected him to change to his wolf form, but the beast was as much a predator in his more human form as well, and clearly intended to hunt the deer on two legs.

The almost immediate rush of joy and bloodthirsty glee marked the first kill, and Abraham was entirely shocked when, within a few minutes, the vampire had returned, hauling a gutted doe behind him, blood streaked down his tattered clothes. The beast had taken time to change clothes before seeing the Romani, out of the few rags he'd had left on himself, but those clothes had already taken a beating from the wilderness. His face was clean of blood, but the thick trail down his neck and chest showed how the doe had died.

With a smile, the vampire leapt agilely aboard the wagon, dropping the doe onto the floor of it, then said happily, "Time for a buck!" before darting off into the trees again. The horses spooked slightly at the blood, but continued to follow the ponies, and Abraham relaxed his mind slightly, seeking out the vampire, wondering what it was doing.

He could feel it searching for the remnants of the small herd, knew when the vampire began to stalk the herd, creeping downwind, body taut with excitement and the thrill of the hunt. Oblivious to his own surroundings, Abraham felt the vampire spring on the buck, felt the head twist and neck snap, then the bloody delight in eviscerating the deer, the sharp flash of annoyance that he'd have to take time to return the buck, rather than continuing his gleeful pursuit of prey. As the vampire lifted the deer onto his shoulders, moving from the tangle of brush where he'd taken it down, Abraham blinked back to awareness of his own surroundings. The team of horses plodded onwards, following the caravan down the road.

The monster was so inhuman, so bestial...but not quite so alien as Abraham had expected. He was simply a predator, a hunter, and that resonated through their bond. The vampire showed up then, tossing his new catch onto the back of the wagon, then paused to look up at Abraham, red eyes glowing in the dark. "Rabbits, there's a covey of them. Another deer? Or a brace of bunnies?" Abraham thought a bit; this was quite a lot of venison, and if they stopped hunting deer now, they could get more later. This could give him an excuse to get the vampire out of the castle in the future if it proved necessary. And he was certainly partial to rabbits, a fine coney stew seeming very appealing.

The vampire clearly caught this last thought, or at least the emotions behind it, and its grin widened. "Rabbits it is!" he announced with an almost child-like joy, at odds with his bloodsoaked appearnce. He bounded off, and Abraham listened with his mind to the stalk and the hunt, as the vampire scooped fleeing rabbit after fleeing rabbit from the ground, snapping their necks and then impaling them on a slender branch. It was nearly an hour later that the vampire finally caught enough to be satisfied, and returned to the wagons at a much more sedate pace.

His mind, too, was calmer, more rational...and Abraham realized that the vampire had been working off nervous energy and agitation by pouring the effort into the physical activity of a hunt. Another deer would have ended the evening too soon, but the rabbits had kept him occupied until he was settled enough to rejoin the caravan. It was a much calmer, no longer remotely irate vampire that rejoined Abraham, two branches of a half-dozen rabbits each slung across its shoulders.

Instead of pacing beside the wagon, the vampire tossed the rabbits onto the deer, then pulled himself up, lounging comfortably against the caracasses as they continued towards the castle. After a few moments of shifting about, unable to get himself into a satisfactory position what with the lumps of rabbit, deer hooves, and then the still body of Quincy taking up a large portion of the wagon's floorspace, he asked for permission to join Abraham on the seat.

Asked. Worried that he'd offend Abraham. Abraham was quick to grant permission, and the rest of the trip was spent wondering at his new servant and the seeming obedience it proferred, all unasked-for. 


	50. Chapter 50 : Jealousy

*It's short, but I wanted to get something up tonight! Have too much to do for a longer post, sorry.*

Jealousy

In the caravan itself, there was a terse discussion going on. Everyone had woken up, and the hot tea on the brazier had been shared about, then the discussion had begun as they sipped on the soup that had been waiting.

It was painful to accept that they had been saved by the vampire, and difficult to determine why. Was he keeping them for amusement? For food? As hostages to Abraham's good behavior? He had given no sign that he was doing it out of the kindness of his undead, unbeating heart, so why had he come racing to their rescue? They would have been doomed if he had not arrived then, instead of minor frostbite on their extremities. Right now, wolves would be gnawing their bones, instead of being wrapped up snuggly in a gently rocking wagon as it rolled down the road. The back window showed them several bobbing horse heads as their mounts followed behind the wagon, and behind them a pair of lanterns marked what was most likely the other wagon. They would have liked to speak with Abraham, but he had left while they slept. The last thing anyone remembered was the growling vampire and Arthur changing sleeping places with Abraham; the prolonged exposure to the cold had sapped their energy and even now, they were stiff, tired, and groggy. When Abraham had at some point arose and left, along with the vampire, they had slept through it.

It was a few hours past sunset when the wagon they were in rolled to a gentle halt. Not long after, Abraham pulled open the door.

"We're taking a short break. Both your driver and I need to stretch our legs, and I've no doubt each of you could use a short break as well." He delicately did not mention the full bladders that the soup and tea had created. "Please do not stray out of sight of the lanterns. The storm has stopped, but the wind still gusts and can make visibility poor. The ponies need a rest as well, so it'll be some time before we start up again." A pause, then a very solemn look. "I am so very, very glad that each of you made it through that storm. Had you done a single thing differently, I don't think even the Count could have saved you. I have never been so glad as when he returned to me to tell me that you had all been found, and in time. You were too damaged at the time to speak, but I would like to ride back with you and talk for the remainder of the trip." With that, Abraham left to take care of his own full bladder.

Behind, at the end of the wagon, a pair of red eyes watched and sharp ears listened. A wave of...jealousy? suspicion? swept through the vampire, and the hands holding the reins tightened and briefly became clawed before relaxing back into simple fingernails. 


	51. Chapter 51 : Ignored

*SOMEONE is a little touchy...*

*Ignored*

The remaining trip back was uneventful, and it was slightly before midnight when the ponies pulled up at the stables. Abraham could feel the vampire's presence, a sullen, banked anger, though he couldn't determine what had triggered the response. He'd asked the vampire to take the wagon back, and gotten a somewhat confused look, but it had been amenable and had calmly scooted over and taken the reins. While everyone exited the caravan, he'd simply stayed on the wagon seat, eyes glowing a faint red in the black night. Now that they were at the castle, Abraham excused himself, leaving the caravan to speak with the vampire.

The seat was empty.

However, both the deer and both braces of rabbits were gone from the wagon, so Abraham simply assumed the vampire had taken his kills inside. The kitchen being the warmest room of the castle, it was also the immediate destination of the humans as well.

As they moved towards the small kitchen door, a few Romanis came out, immediately heading towards the horses and wagons and beginning to strip the animals of their tack. Entering the kitchen beside Arthur and the others, Abraham was unsurprised to see both deer already hung at the back of the room, a handful of Romani busily butchering them, and another woman seated on a stool, stripping the skin from the rabbits. He was initially surprised at this many people awake and alert so late at night, but realized that as this was the Count's home, and they were expected to return that night, there was no real surprise at the number of nocturnal people!

What he was surprised at was the absence of the Count. He felt along the bond between them, already noticeably weaker, to find the vampire nowhere near and also...sulking? The creature seemed to be somewhere up above him, and he considered going to see him, but instead found himself helping the others yet again.

Everyone was recovered, mostly, thanks to the food, warmth, and rest, but there was peeling skin, numbness, and stiffness that they were still working through. Even the short distance to the kitchen had involved stumbling and weaving about, and John was insistent that the damaged portions needed to be coated with ointment and wrapped. Abraham found himself traveling back out to the caravan to fetch their medical kits, then busy removing dead flakes of skin, applying lotions to the damage, and wrapping the worst of the injuries under soft bandages.

It was Arthur who first noticed the...unusual...injuries on the deer. He'd been staring over vaguely at the butchering as Abraham worked on his feet, and then the gaping wound at the deer's throat registered.

"Abraham...that deer. Do they use dogs to hunt with?" He looked a bit puzzled at this, and continued. "I haven't seen any deer hounds of any sort, nor any sign of a kennel, and that's not a knife wound. I wonder how on Earth they got that deer?" It was more of an idle conversation than anything else, but Abraham smiled slightly as he answered, knowing that it would make everyone that little bit more indebted to the vampire, which would help relations.

The smile faded as he realized it would also make the vampire that much more of a monster to them as well. "Ah, Dracula went hunting after he woke up. By the time I joined you, he'd gotten two fine deer and quite a few rabbits as well." Moving on to the next toe, Abraham continued casually with his explanation. "I suspect that having a convenient wagon to haul his kills back in made it logical. The deer and rabbits were also bedded down due to the cold and storm, I suspect they were easy to locate as well. As it may be, we'll have having something besides dried meats and ham for a bit! I rather fancy a bit of rabbit stew myself."

Arthur's brow furrowed, and he clearly prepared to continue this discussion, but the men that had gone to tend to the horses entered then, carrying their supplies. Their bedrolls, clothing, weapons, everything, was in the Romani hands, and Abraham felt a moment of fear that it would all be stolen before pausing to chastise himself. The Romani had been nothing but helpful, and all of them owed their lives to the Count and his servants. One of the men came up to him, asking a question in his language, and gesturing to the bundles being carried by the others.

Ah, where to place it? Abraham led them upstairs, taking the medical kits himself, and had the Romani place the belongings in the room that the Harkers used. Despite the late hour, no one was tired, and shortly afterwards, the entire group was sitting about the room, going through items, sorting them into things that need to be repaired, to be cleaned, and into their own possessions. Abraham was a bit surprised to see everyone looking about on occasion, until Johnathan's statement made it clear what they were waiting for.

"Where the Devil is that bastard?" Johnathan's face was set in a scowl, his eyes glaring towards the doorway.

Abraham immediately realized who Johnathan was referencing, and snapped back at him. "That 'bastard'? You mean, the vampire that found you in the blizzard, stopped the storm, and saved your lives? The one that drove the wagon so that I could stay with you? The one that kept our mounts alive? That spent part of this trip, after doing all the work of saving your sorry behind, also doing some hunting? The 'bastard' who is finally taking a bit of rest and enjoying some privacy? That bastard?" Abraham's icy glare, and the lack of support by the others, caused Johnathan to back down, mumbling out an insincere apology.

"As near as I can tell, he's on the roof or in one of the upper bedrooms. He's nowhere nearby, nor is he in any sort of sociable mood at this time. He's hungry after all the work he's done," and here Abraham paused a bit, looking slightly embarassed, "and he's also annoyed at me, or seems to be."

"Annoyed?" Mina arched an eyebrow at him. "I wondered about that. As you've said, he accepted the bond, which I still find amazing. And then you send him out alone to save us, leave him alone to drive the wagon all the way back, spend time with us again rather than him while you wrap bandages, which I may point out that John could have done very well on his own, then come back to our rooms with us to, of all things, sort through supplies...and have yet to even approach him?" She gave him a calculating look. "He's just bonded himself to you, you yourself have told us he's obeying you, and now you're just brushing him off? He's a proud creature, Abraham, don't expect him to come begging you for attention so he can tell you what he needs." She snorted, a very unladylike sound. "Go. Find him. And give him our thanks." She shot a glare at her husband. "ALL of our thanks."

Thoroughly berated for his thoughtlessness, Abraham found himself up and moving towards the door.

Mina was entirely correct. And he really should have spent a bit of time with the creature, too. Now, the bond was already fading away, and there was still so much to ask, so very, very much he did not know. And his neglected, irritated monster was waiting somewhere for him.

With a feeling of trepidation, Abraham placed his foot on the first step to the upper levels, hoping that his vampire wasn't too irritated. 


	52. Chapter 52 : Leader

*I was a little bummed at the lack of reviews for the recent chapters, but then I had two people remind me of just how much they looked forward to my updates. So...this is for you. A short little chapter of insight into their relationship as it develops. Enjoy!*

Leader

Abraham found his monster, on top of the castle, leaning on the parapet, gazing out into the night and the mountains. The cold breeze blew, lifting the steely gray locks of hair, playing with them idly, then dropping them back to his shoulders. The vampire was motionless, only the hair indicating that this was not a statue, but a real creature.

Unsure of how to approach this unpredictable, unknowable creature, Abraham remained silent, quietly joining the Count, leaning on the parapet as well a few feet away. The anger and irritation of the Count faded, eased, and it was a companionable silence that replaced it. Finally, Abraham spoke.

"Thank you." The vampire turned, faintly surprised at this. "My friends would not have lived without your assistance, much less had all their limbs intact." A pause, then, "You stopped the storm, didn't you?" It was more of an idle question and Abraham was not surprised to see the monster nod.

"It will be...interesting...finding out what else you are capable of." Abraham's wry, yet curious observation was met with a flash of teeth as the vampire smiled unexpectedly as well. "I look forward to an...interesting...time as your Master, as well."

The irritation that had flowed through the bond had changed to simple calm, and now it was a sort of pleasure and relief that Abraham felt. It was so difficult to tell, really, and that bond had already weakened so much. However, it still functioned, and the vampire was aware of his thoughts. How much was a vampiric ability, and how much the bond, Abraham did not know, but the vampire turned to face him, eyes glowing faintly but with warmth, not rage.

On his outstretched hand rested a single drop of blood, waiting at the tip of an extended finger, and the eyes, now serious again, watched Abraham, waiting and expectant. Silently, Abraham extended his own hand, and within the space of a breath, almost too fast to see, the vampire had gently pricked a finger. A new bond, closer, stronger than the first, formed between them.

Abraham's smile reached into his eyes as he nodded towards the stairs. "I can tell you need to feed...you wore yourself out helping. I'll be waiting for you in my room." The vampire paused at this, thinking, then nodded.

"My coffin...may I place it in your room? I would prefer to have it down in the crypt or with you, not unattended and unwatched if I am not nearby." Abraham could feel the concern from the vampire. Always, vampires hid their coffins; any vampire that did not do so would simply not last long. Having his coffin away from the others in a separate room, in a castle full of people, not tucked away in a nearly-inaccessible crypt...yes, the vampire would certainly be concerned.

"Would you prefer to place it in the crypt?" Abraham was feeling out the vampire now, trying to determine how much was the vampire attempting to do as Abraham wished, how much was its own preference. The vampire was trying very hard to be obedient, he could feel through the bond its surprising willingness and will to be led and not a leader, and did not want to abuse it accidentally.

A pause, and then Dracula nodded a bit. "For now...in your room. I can latch the door, and there will be both of us to watch it. In the crypt, the others know how to find that, and would be...hidden...from you, should they choose to attack me or my resting place." The concern the vampire felt for his coffin surprised Abraham. He had always thought that a coffin was simply a coffin, replaceable and interchangeable, but the vampire clearly felt some sort of bond, some sort of need, for this specific resting place.

"Eat first, I'll watch it until you have finished, then we may move it." The surprised gleam in the vampire's eyes told Abraham he'd made the correct choice with this offer; now that the anger and irritation was no longer driving the vampire to the seclusion of the parapet, it was worrying about the coffin's safety.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The vampire's feeding was clearly felt by Abraham, the bond so much deeper and stronger this time around. There had been more blood exchanged, which may have been part of the reason, and there had also been the remnants of the previous bond as well. There may have been other reasons, but Abraham was no master of the dark arts to understand those reasons. All he knew was that he was much more aware of the vampire, able to read clear thoughts, feel the massive intellect spinning, mental gears turning, and the peristent machination of its environment.

The vampire was a master manipulator, and Abraham sat in the chair by the coffin, eyes closed, tracing the vampire's activity. He knew when the vampire located a woman that he wanted, the experienced lure and seduction (although he also felt the pleasure that the vampire felt when the woman didn't require it to be interested herself) that the vampire created, and then the unexpected jolt of pleasure and the near-blissful fogging of its mind as it fed.

Knowing that the woman was both willing and pleased with the encounter and that the vampire was solicitous of her health, stopping before he was fully content so as not to risk her, was a relief to Abraham. He had somewhat expected this after meeting the women in the kitchen and their smug, proud neck displays, but having it verified removed yet another worry from his mind.

He had a great deal to learn about his vampire.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dracula returned shortly afterwards, and lounged casually across the top of his coffin, the room dim with only the flicker of a single candle as Abraham asked his questions, learning about his monster, their bond, and just idly chatting. He was in no hurry, and the quiet, calm companionship of the monster soothed him, so different from the noise and bustle of a human. Their quiet voices rambled on until morning, covering an incredible range of topics and interests. Abraham flagged first, finding himself yawning, and the vampire chuckled at this point and languidly rose from his coffin.

"Master, I think it's time you sought your bed." Head tilted, eyes lit with a touch of both pleasure and mischief, the vampire lightly teased his master for his fatigue. With a smooth motion, it twisted, lightly lifting the massive coffin, then waiting casually for Abraham to lead the way.

Subservient, yet again. Not timid, not slavish, but reluctant to lead, and expecting Abraham to do so.

A puzzle.

Abraham mused over what this meant as he followed the vampire to their chamber, no longer merely his. The fire had gone out, and when the vampire saw him fussing with the remaining wood beside it, he'd made a quiet exit, only to return a moment later with a large pile of wood in his arms. It wasn't long before the roaring fire was chasing the chill from the room. Abraham's bed had been remade with fresh sheets, he suspected the hand of Mina had been involved in this, and he lounged comfortably across the bed as the vampire reclaimed his own position atop the coffin.

Abraham's journal was in his lap, and he began to take notes, only to feel a flash of irritation from the vampire.

Irritation? Abraham looked up at the creature, to find it frowning faintly at the book itself. "Yes?"

The vampire was definitely irritated. Not angry, not annoyed, really, but mildly upset all the same. It pondered over its response for a few moments, finally deciding on a course of action. "Master...can you teach me to read dutch?"

Abraham's surprise was evident, even if the vampire hadn't felt it echo down the bond as well. "I can't read it." He spoke no more, but Abraham could feel the frustration. This was a creature that liked to know and understand its entire environment, liked to feel in control, and to have that information so entirely unaccessible was a mental itch that it needed to scratch. It was with a sort of wicked delight that Abraham realized just how frustrated the beast must have been after stealing his journal, only to find it so entirely incomprehensible.

He couldn't help it, miffed look on the vampire's face or not, he laughed. And then he recorded the day's adventures in English. A few moments of thought had made him realize that the vampire had access to his mind, after all, so why not allow him to read the journal? He'd participated in most of the events it recorded, there was nothing there that he would not know and it was also likely he could explain misconceptions Abraham might have.

Before sleeping, Abraham took time to translate a handful of pages into English, writing on the back of some papers that the vampire had declared to be outdated or no longer needed, and then gave the beast a short list of words and their English meaning.

He fell asleep to the pleased vampire humming to itself as it puzzled through the journal, a smile on his own face. He had had a thoroughly enjoyable night with the creature, unexpected and social.

Yes, the vampire was an enigma, but one that he looked forward to comprehending.  



	53. Chapter 53 : Mastery

*It's late, I'm absolutely wiped, but I felt I really ought to get something up! Short and sweet.:) *

Mastery

The pages of translations were helpful, as was the list of common terms that Abraham had provided as well. The man was sound asleep on his bed, his presence simply filling the entire room from the sheer strength of his personality.

The vampire put down the Journal, as far along in it as he was going to manage, and spent the last few moments before dawn watching his Master.

Master. Such a strange word to use for someone else. Unconciously, his head tilted, silky hair falling across his neck from the movement. Master. His leader, his commander, the one he would obey.

Maybe.

The man was a capable leader, certainly. Even without a true bond between them, he'd shown that he already felt responsible for a vampire's emotional and physical well-being, reassuring and pleasant to observe. The man had already left the other humans, seeking the company of a vampire for the last few hours of the night, not only feeling obligated to do so as part of his new position as Master, but also seeming to enjoy such company as well.

A puzzle, this man, but a delight. Not just a strong leader, but perhaps someone whose company Dracula could enjoy as well.

An odd thought.

For now, it was time to sleep. And his coffin, left in a room with a window, on a floor that bustled with humans, humans that had silver and stakes and Host and that knew his vulnerabilities, his coffin was accessible.

He should be worried.

He should be wanting to quietly drag his coffin away as Abraham slept, tuck it away into a damp, dark corner of the crypt so far undiscovered and undisturbed.

He should be nervous, dreading waking in the bright light of day, screaming in pain.

He should be.

Instead, the vampire smiled faintly, unable to worry in the least with Abraham so close, and quietly slid the massive lid closed. 


	54. Chapter 54 : Disclosure

*Another short one...if you want to know more about the ritual itself, check in Unpredictable, Ch 2, I believe*

Disclosure

Abraham stared at the vampire, the small book falling forgotten from his hands. "Surely, you can't...you want..." Resigned. "There is no other way?"

The vampire solemnly shook his head. Abraham could feel the fear radiating from the beast, no matter how calm its appearance. The bond did not lie. But he could also feel the bitter determination, too.

In that innocuous, plain brown, leather book, was the directions for binding a vampire. Written in English, which Abraham was briefly surprised at, detailed, clear, gorey, and entirely horrifying.

Abraham wasn't certain that he could inflinct upon that trusting vampire what the book called for. It was...grotesque.

And that was when the vampire realized that he hesitated, and the bitter determination faded into a sort of grief. The emotions were not human, but they had a sort of human equivalent, and his half-formed decision to not do this to the vampire inflicted emotional pain on the monster.

"I have a few hours of pain...or I can go insane." The steady red eyes, banked now, did not blink. "Staying bound to you is helpful, but the exchange would need to be repeated constantly, and neither of us would ever have privacy." A head tilt. "The blood bond is not meant to be permanent, and while it is a different, slower route to insanity for me, the constant forced proximity of our minds would take BOTH of us to that destination."

With a nod, Abraham returned to the book, flipping steadily through the few pages and their detailed, horrific descriptions of what he would have to do to his vampire. Every instinct in him rebelled at this; a leader took care of his followers, and every instinct in his body that made him a great leader screamed in protest at the thought of deliberately torturing his monster. As he looked through the booklet, the vampire eased out of the room quietly, a sort of sad determination leaking through the bond.

It returned with two crates, placing them on the floor by Abraham. Van Helsing sat, the book dangling precariously from two fingers, deep in thought, and looked up in surprise at the sharp, wooden cracking sound. Dracula had pulled the lid from a crate, and inside it were...tools. Equipment. A dagger, gleaming in a dully tarnished silver. Bundles of wooden stakes, apparently the oak and yew called for. A small, intricate silvered bottle, possibly the Holy Water. And then the chains, the manacles, all the accoutrements of torture and restraint that Abraham had feared, now laid out before him in all their deadly, horrific selves.

He and the vampire spent a long, intense moment of eye contact, solemn, earnest, and unblinking.

Finally, Abraham nodded.  



	55. Chapter 55 : Farewells

*I know, I know...he regenerates his clothing in the anime and after the first seal in Unexpected. I'm figuring that he has his own clothes anyway. God knows I have a pile of clothes I don't really need, either.*

Farewells

It was time to leave Romania.

The Romani had been deeply upset that the Count was leaving them, and some of the women had taken their anger out on the strangers that were taking him away, screaming and furious. The men had simply appeared concerned, worried; their protector and lord was leaving them. The vampire had taken time to speak with each of them. He explained to Abraham that he was essentially giving the Romani his castle, and had gifted each individual down to the tiniest of the babes with a substantial number of coins; easily a decade's worth of earnings. They could continue to use his castle as a home base, as shelter during the winter, but he would no longer be providing his protection nor requiring their services.

They had also received all belongings in the home and stables, with strict warnings against entering the crypts. A few trinkets and jewels had been given to them as well, and the heads of the families each received an additional small sum. It was this care that had reduced the anger of the Gypsy families to mere regret at the loss of their leader. He wasn't abandoning them, not really, and they had always taken care of themselves except for those few months of the year. Appeased, they provided grudging assistance in repairing and mending the wagon and harnesses. Dracula had no intention of taking the wagon and horses with him to England, and procured the services of a pair of Romani to take the party safely to the town, paying them with the wagon and sturdy team when the trip was completed.

The important books and papers of the Count, such as the little innocuous booklet containing the horrific binding spell as well as a few larger texts of mystical diagrams and such were now in Abraham's possession. At present, they were as much a mystery to the man as the dutch journal had been to the monster, and he faced the knowledge of the magic they likely contained with a fair bit of trepidation. The vampire had deemed them too valuable and potentially useful to leave, although Abraham himself had no real idea of how these sacriligeous texts, some of which the vampire had casually mentioned were bound in human skin, could ever be "useful". The half-dozen books and stack of delicate ancient vellum scrolls were carefully packed away inside a very battered, surprisingly heavy, incredibly sturdy trunk with an immense, intricate lock. Dracula had warned his master and the others of the danger of attempting to open that lock; it was a well-protected chest and at the very least, anyone tampering with the lock would end up very ill; at worst, they would be ghouled.

The vampire had taken time to secrete other, more personal items and a large number of books and documents elsewhere on the property. Abraham was aware of this, aware of the vampire's thought process. He wasn't hiding them from his master, but simply storing them away safely in case they were needed in the future, and he had no reason at all to take them away. He'd added a few precious items to this stash; the remnants of jewelry from his treasury in the long-ago days when he had ruled a large portion of this country. Should he find himself in need in the distant future, he would have resources to fall back upon.

He had surprisingly few clothes; he didn't have many to begin with, able to create his own clothing as a vampiric ability. In addition, almost all of his wardrobe had apparently traveled to England with him, along with any other more personal belongings, in his original journey. When all was said and done, the vampire's "packing" consisted of a single spare suit and a few extra shirts plus a small locket containing a single, faded, smudged portrait of a woman and any other tiny items he might have tucked into his coffin.

The vampire had taken time to travel through his home one last time the night before they left. The sad, regretful wisps of thought that traced through his mind had kept Abraham awake and strangely depressed throught the night. He might have had second thoughts about truly forcing the beast to leave his home and go to England except for the effect when the vampire had returned to the room. Dracula had entered, quiet and withdrawn, and paused upon seeing Abraham waiting up, translating more of his journal as a means to pass the time.

The vampire's soft delight and anticipation, his obvious readiness to leave, were a surprise to Abraham. The vampire wanted to go; for the first time, he was making a final farewell to the only place he had known as home for centuries. He knew he might never return, but the beast also wanted to leave, wanted to experience more of the world, and most important of all, WANTED to be with Abraham.

He was leaving the castle, but not leaving his home.

Whereever Abraham took him, as long as Abraham was there, was now his home.  



	56. Chapter 56 : Itinerary

*This was much, much more fun than creating worksheets...*

Itinerary

The wagon rattled down the road, Abraham at the reins, with two still presences behind him. A coffin had been procured for Quincy, the raw pine wood and harsh exterior concealing the sad remnants within. The other coffin was older, darker, elegant in its form but with the patina and gloss of a very aged relic that was carefully maintained. Its contents too were silent and still, but that could change.

Mina was seated beside Abraham, but only because there was not a single sidesaddle in the bunch and the only split skirt she had brought was a tattered mess. She had been tempted to simply ride anyways, and to hell with propriety, for after all, who was there to see other than the small group she traveled with? She had opted for the wagon anyways. Mostly, she wanted to speak with Abraham about the monster and what was planned for it.

The remainder of the wagon held bedrolls, a small amount of spare clothing, a pair of crates and a small, battered, locked chest. Three snug, sturdy tents were a very welcome addition; no one had truly been prepared for the cold nights of the Romanian mountains, and the Gypsies had lent them the tents for the trip back to the towns. There were also some chains and locks, which Abraham and the Count had carried out and placed in the wagon but not bothered to explain the purpose of.

As they rolled down the road, enjoying the bright sunshine despite the chill air, Mina began to ask her questions. She wasn't entirely certain what she thought of the Count, not anymore. He was an inhuman monster, and her anger at the loss of Lucy and the suffering of her beloved Johnathan still burned in her, but was leavened by a small amount of understanding and even sympathy for the beast as well.

"Abraham, what in the world are those chains for?" She knew that there were heavy, heavy chains in the crates, the vampire's strength had been used to load them into the wagon after all. But the smaller chains were a mystery.

"Part of our trip will be by boat and train. We won't always be right with the coffins, they'll be cargo. I have no intention of allowing another set of brigands or a thief to rifle through Quincy's belongings or disturb Dracula. The first would be an insult to the man, the second would take care of feeding the monster but would leave us a dead body to dispose of." He was quite matter-of-fact about it, and she was accustomed enough to his cold logic not to be offended at it. "The chains are sized to fit around the coffins, and lock the lids down tightly. During the day, they'll keep the coffins safely closed. At night, I'll release Dracula although I suspect he's perfectly capable of releasing the chains himself." A slight furrow marred Abraham's brow. "I'm still not entirely sure of just how many tricks he has up his sleeves. He's shown me quite a few, and I don't know if I've more than scratched the surface of what he is capable of."

Well, it was a logical use for the chains, and Mina could quite see his point. She wasn't certain herself how the vampire would manage to get the chains off without damaging the coffin, but after seeing him change to wolf and bat and his immense strength, she had few doubts that he had abilities well beyond what anyone would expect.

The wagons rattled down the road, the two Romani far ahead on their own tough little ponies, checking the road for obstructions while the wagon rolled down the snowy road. Arthur and the others were riding, sometimes following and sometimes far ahead. It was a pleasant ride; if it wasn't for the grim contents of the wagon and the terrors and stress that they had experienced, it might even have been enjoyable. A few bright birds flitted through the trees, the sun sparkled on the pure snow and delicate icicles that adorned the trees. The beautiful white expanse was dotten with brilliant rich deep greens of pine trees, and at one point a deer burst from cover, fleeing from the party in great graceful leaps.

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The peaceful trip was having its effect on Abraham. His sleeping schedule had shifted dramatically, waking up not long before sunset, and staying awake most of the night. It was reasonable with the monster he was in charge of, but it meant that there was only a few hours in the day when he was available to socialize and meet with the others, with their preference for sunlit days instead of shadowed nights. It also meant that for him, this was late, late night, his body protesting. After seeing him yawn yet again, Mina scooted closer, taking the reins from him. It wasn't long before Abraham had made a lumpy bed on the tent canvas, cushioned as much as he could with the blankets and bedrolls, and attempted to nap.

He paid for this uncomfortable rest at their lunch stop. Even the few short hours on that makeshift bed had him sore, back twisted. The cold air had not helped matters, keeping muscles tight, and now he hobbled about the camp like an old man. He didn't complain, it was not his nature, but he was clearly uncomfortable.

What he had not counted on was that, with the bond he now shared with his vampire, the vampire would be experiencing this as well. The entire party stopped to stare when the grating sound of the heavy lid sliding from the coffin was heard, and the irritable, tired vampire joined Abraham. He was quiet, grumbling, glaring, and out-of-sorts, and shared only a brief conversation with Abraham before moving back to the wagon. There was the audible sound of things shifting about, and then the vampire vanished, apparently back in his own coffin.

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Part of the vampire's conversation became clear when Abraham followed up the lunch rest with a hefty shot of alcohol from the hip flask of a gypsy. With that concentrated dose in him, tight muscles relaxed and pain eased. The vampire's activities were obvious when he returned to the wagon; things were rearranged, packed about, the tent poles moved out of the way, and most astonishingly...a place for a bed had been created.

Quincy's coffin now rested on the crates and the chest, to one side of the wagon, lifted higher than the black coffin. Dracula's great coffin sat in the center, the top of it now the lowest point in the pile of belongings. The tent poles were placed upright on the other side of his coffin, braced with the canvas, and creating a sort of wall. The lid of the vampire's coffin was left bare, walled in by the side of the other coffin and the tents, making a smooth and sheltered place to sleep.

The bedrolls placed beside it made it clear what the vampire intended.

The Romani gaped, staring from Abraham to the coffin and back, then muttering respectfully as they backed away. The others were not quite so impressed, but they'd experienced the protectiveness of the vampire when they had attempted to shift the coffin previously. His possessiveness and protectiveness had been abundantly clear in the wide berth the Romani had given the enclosure when they entered the room and their absolute refusal to touch it when loading. Even then, the vampire had refused to let anyone touch it, loading it himself, and once snapping at Arthur when he carelessly rested a hand on it.

Courtesy of the bond between them, Abraham had known that the vampire had been focused on creating a more comfortable, or at least less uncomfortable, place for his master to rest.

He had not even remotely expected that the vampire would allow him to sleep on the coffin, much less expect it.

It was with a sense of both overwhelming responsibility and deep delight at the trust the vampire expressed, plus a healthy dose of worry at remaining deserving of that absolute faith, that Abraham fell asleep. The smooth rocking of the wagon and the warm sun beat down on him as he slumbered on the smooth lid, his deadly servant deeply asleep as well and less than a foot away.

It was a very promising start to the journey they had embarked on together. 


	57. Chapter 57 : Accidents Happen

*I had a request for an "accident" scene with Abraham getting hurt, such as a sprained ankle. I thought that would work nicely if they were out gathering wood, the ground under the trees hidden by a blanket of snow. So I tossed Alucard and Abraham out in the woods together, and they wrote their own story a very different way*

Accidents Happen

Mina drove the wagon the rest of the day, leaving Abraham to sleep in the back. Camp was made before dark, allowing enough light to see and set everything up, but it had still been long enough for Abraham to be very stiff and sore, not long enough for him to have truly rested. When Mina woke him, he got up to assist in setting up the tents and such, but he was clearly not entirely awake. As the sun set over the mountains, the coffin lid moved and the vampire joined them.

He was no better off than Abraham, short on sleep due to the disruption in the middle of the day and his poor sleep before that while Abraham tossed and turned on the lumpy tents. Due to their bond, there was an unpleasant feedback between them; the fatigue and irritation magnified, leaving both of them to glare unpleasantly at the others. Abraham was wise enough, upon seeing how nervous the angry vampire made the others, to suggest that they go collect firewood.

It was a reasonable thought; the vampire was capable of lifting an entire tree trunk, and breaking it with his bare hands. Between the two of them, they would be able to find and return with enough firewood for the entire night quite quickly.

And Abraham was also quite well aware that ripping apart a tree with his bare hands would appeal to the irritable monster. He rather thought he'd get a bit of a vicarious thrill out of it himself. Lord knows he wanted to rip into something. He was also hungry; the cold air and his light lunch had made him well aware of how good dinner would taste, and anxious to get the wood back to start up a decent cooking fire. Dracula was hungry, too. Not terribly so, but still somewhat...peckish. And just like the irritation and fatigue, their hunger was an unpleasant feedback loop as well.

It was only a few hundred yards from camp when the Count found a suitable tree. Dead for months or years, the branches were entirely bare, the trunk weak and dry. With a snarl, Dracula reached up, snapping off an entire branch bigger around than Abraham's arm, then tossing it on the ground and leaping up onto the remaining stub to grab a higher one. He took a positive delight in the destruction, taking out his unpleasant mood on the wood, snapping and ripping off limbs with far more force than necessary. Splinters and bits of wood littered the ground under the tree as the vampire destroyed it.

And when he yanked viciously on one particularly thick branch, a jagged splinter of wood shot out, directly at Abraham. Too tired and too blinded by the dark to move out of the way, Abraham didn't notice the projectile in time to react, and it ripped a great bloody track across the side of his throat, just above his collarbone. He gasped, shocked, fingers pressed to the gash.

And then Dracula smelled the blood.

His Master's blood.

And he was hungry, upset, not thinking clearly himself.

In a flash, he had grabbed Abraham's shoulders, glowing eyes burning into the man, and his long, wicked tongue slowly extending from his frozen mouth, his expressionless face.

Abraham felt along the bond, and realized that the vampire simply...wasn't...there. He was overwhelmed by his instincts, seeing only an incredibly attractive meal, alone, with no witnesses, hungry himself...and he was operating solely by those instincts. A flare of fear in Abraham drove the eyes to a brighter gleam, and a cruel predatory smile appeared as the head tilted and the vampire moved dreamily towards the wound, tongue reaching out to touch the bloody slit, fangs extending as he prepared to bite.

Abraham could not moved, locked into position by those icy, iron hands, terrified of what would happen when the vampire killed him.

And then he realized, a bare second from dying, that the vampire would be lost. Grief, rage, insanity...THIS WAS WHY HE WAS MASTER.

Fear transmuted immediately into anger, rage, and protectiveness.

NO!  
NO!  
NO.

He would NOT allow this. He beat at the vampire's mind with his own, a sudden, unexpected, powerful blow, his anger and his dominance key. His mind, his will, simply slammed into the vampire's, physically knocking Dracula backwards.

Dracula released him, staggering, utterly dazed. He blinked at Abraham, and his confusion washed gently at Van Helsing's mind.

And then comprehension.

Disgust at himself, a shattered self-confidence, horror at what he had nearly done, and grief...for Abraham would not want him now, now that his Master had seen the beast inside. He staggered back a few more steps, and Abraham could feel him preparing to run away, ready to scream his loss into the woods...

And reached out to grab the monster's coat instead, pulling him close.

Taken aback, knocked off what little psychological balance the monster had managed to obtain in his mind, it simply blinked again, swaying. Abraham met his eyes, forcing the vampire to acknowledge his Mastery, affirming and reaffirming and demanding it.

Tense moments passed.

Abraham pulled his coat off, unbuttoned the top of his shirt, pulling the collar away from his neck.

"I want that wound healed, Dracula. You caused it, you fix it. You may consume any of the blood that is already out of the wound. And don't you dare bite." Demanding and confident, as though mere seconds before he had not faced death from this same monster that he was now inviting to lick that bleeding gash on his neck.

Humbled and awed, eyes glowing with respect, the vampire obeyed.  



	58. Chapter 58 : Resigned

*It absolutely didn't go the way I thought I would. But I liked the way it ended. Alucard insisted. Thank you for all the reviews on the different stories; reviews = chapters, because knowing that someone out there is waiting for the next chapter is what spurs me to sit down and post it! It ended up being a sort of "bookend" to Unpredictable Ch 74 Anniversary, too...*

Resigned

Abraham had returned to the camp, bearing a load of firewood, not mentioning Dracula's failure, simply commanding him to bring some of the wood back himself. The vampire had complied, still shocked to his core at what had occurred and what Abraham Van Helsing had become. Power, absolute and unshakeable strength, it still resonated through him, confusing and befuddling him and leaving him in pure turmoil.

Wood delivered, he pulled back into the quiet and dark of the woods, out of sight to human eyes, and watched the camp. The gypsies tethered the horses out on a line; the beasts were aware of him, nervous ears twitching his direction, but the humans and their lesser senses were oblivious. Mina and Johnathan shared a brief tender moment, a kiss exchanged as they passed while performing their own camp duties. John teased Arthur as he attempted to pound one of the final stakes into the ground for the tent, apparently stymed by a hidden rock under the soil. And over it all, Abraham reigned. He effortlessly assigned tasks, kept track of each person, made sure that every aspect of the camp was prepared.

Tents were placed on cleared, flat areas, horses tethered between a pair of sturdy trees, snow set in buckets by the fire to melt. Rocks were gathered to ring a campfire, now being built up by Abraham. Mina pulled out their supplies, selecting ingredients for their evening meal. All around the camp was industry, simple and pure, and each person organized and led, directly or indirectly, from his own Master.

Dracula was not ready to interact with the humans. He tolerated them, but their unpredictability, their fear, their very human-ness, it was stressful, off-putting, unbalancing. Not tonight. He needed...solitude? He didn't really know, but he knew that the bright circle of firelight and the friendly and competent bustle of the camp, the chatting and companionship, they were not for him.

He was a monster.

And monsters were resigned to watching from the trees, seeing what they would never have. 


	59. Chapter 59 : Introspective

*I wasn't sure where this was going. It's mostly just a ramble, a little viewpoint from someone else in the party, and what Abraham did while the others slept. Nothing much, but it greased the mental wheels and hopefully the next one will have a little meat on it.

Introspective

John shuddered a bit.

It was unnerving, to say the least. Abraham had returned with an armload of wood, and a bloodstained collar on his shirt, and he absolutely refused to explain what had happened. The vampire had followed after him, quickly dropping the wood and vanishing again. Brief glimpses of red eyes were visible in the trees, as the creature moved the wood to the outskirts of the camp and Abraham collected it, building up a warm and bright fire.

During supper, during the clean-up after it, as everyone relaxed and prepared for bed, those odd red eyes continued to show up at, a gleam here, then several minutes later, a flash from a different area. It lurked, and John had the uneasy feeling that the vampire was stalking the camp, just waiting on someone to fall asleep. He was also uncomfortably aware that the monster had not eaten yet, unless the blood on Abraham's collar said otherwise, but he didn't think the vampire would be so wasteful of blood, either.

Abraham didn't speak of it, wouldn't speak of it, and made it quite clear that whatever had occurred was not a topic of conversation. His reassurances that the vampire did not pose a threat were not so reassuring after all, not with the mute testimony of his bloodied collar.

It was difficult to sleep that night. The tent, with its two layers and clever brazier, stayed at a habitable temperature and the thick blankets and fur covering provided by the Romani kept him warm. There were no wolves out there, howling, no wind, no sounds other than the quiet and expected sounds of a snowy winter night. That just made it worse; his mind drawing elaborate images of the vampire creeping soundlessly about. When he finally slept, John's mind was filled with images of the bloody shirt and a sharp-toothed Abraham smiling at him, telling him not to worry.

He awoke well before dawn, too unnerved to sleep well, and left the tent for a short trip of a personal nature. The brief excursion woke him completely, and instead of feeling reassured that everyone was safe, he found himself frightened by the silence of the camp. He felt a right fool for poking his head in each of the tents, but it was only after he'd found the others and the Romani sleeping peacefully instead of their remains tangled in blood-soaked sheets that he was able to sleep again.

He was unaware, this time, of the red eyes that watched him move about.

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Abraham wasn't certain why his vampire was so upset, but the melancholy purely rolled off the beast. He ignored the monster as he fetched the wood and started up a good fire, then worked on getting a suitable camp set up for the evening. Dinner eaten, he set aside a smaller pot of the stew and a quarter-loaf of bread. He'd be up til midnight himself, possibly later, and had no intentions of waking up anyone else to fix him a late meal. Keeping a small pot warm by the fire was a simple matter.

His journal was running out of pages, but he still took time to detail the events of the night, from the unfortunate feedback effect of the bond to the reaction of the other members upon seeing his collar, finishing with the reclusive response of the vampire itself. It was more difficult to find the words he wanted in English, rather than his native Dutch, and he wasn't certain of the spellings either, but out of deference to the vampire's wishes, he humored the beast and kept the journal in a language it could comprehend. However, he was Master, and Dracula would need to learn to read the Dutch himself, rather than Abraham continuing to adjust to its needs.

Well past midnight, he finally sought his own bed. He was sharing a tent with Johnathan and Arthur, the gypsies sharing a second tent, and the Harkers in the third. Johathan thrashed about in his sleep, clearly in the throes of a nightmare, and Abraham worried about his charge, although the melancholic, regretful presence remained close by and unchanged. He finally slept, awaking again, briefly, when Johnathan answered a call of nature, and then again on his subsequent return.

It was nearly dawn when the vampire came in to wake him, the light now a deep steel gray instead of the black of the night. Hunger, the vampire was hungry, and Abraham realized that while the taste of his blood had certainly been welcomed, the creature needed to eat. He opened his mouth, intending to offer his blood to the vampire, but the beast spoke first.

"The Romani will donate." Dracula knew that he knew the vampire needed a meal, thanks to the bond and the lack of privacy it created. The vampire picked up that irritated thought as well, and grinned. "The more permanent bond will allow us to keep our minds private." The smile faded, and then it waited, crouched by Abraham's side, entirely unmoving, and...expectant?

It took Abraham's sleep-fogged mind a few moments to realize that he needed to grant permission for Dracula to feed, and as soon as he'd done so, the vampire vanished. Not long after, the pleasant rush of feeding resonated down the bond to Abraham, relaxing him into a final short nap before awakening with the rest of the group.

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As they loaded the wagon again, the vampire already sound asleep in his coffin, Abraham pondered more on what had occurred. The attempted attack, the vampire's immediate assumption that it had destroyed their relationship, the way it had hid from everyone afterwards, its subservient nature and request to feed, and most important of all, the deep and obvious difference between its nature and that of a human...all required some thought and analysis. And he couldn't do that at night, not with the vampire awake and listening to his mind.

And so, although he wanted very much to lie back down on the lid and resume his interupted sleep, Abraham spent the first part of the morning turning over what had occurred. He had given his word to the vampire that he would be a Master, and the events of the night had solidified his belief that he would be able to master the monster, too. But the attack, the constant drain on his mind, the unintentional constant assault of the vampire's so very alien thoughts and emotions...

Would the vampire save its own mind at the cost of Abraham's? How much different would the full bond be?

Would it be better to simply stake the vampire, destroy it now? With the link between them, Abraham thought that he might well be able to identify if the vampire was truly dead and destroyed. Should he mention this to the others, and see what they thought or expected?

No, it was his responsibility now, his vampire.

And while the temptation remained to try and destroy the vampire, the scientific side of his mind was rubbing its hands in glee, anticipating the wealth of knowledge and information that would be gained from a vampire roped into obedience, and the more moral side of him pondered the potential ability to use the creature to protect humans, as well.

It might be a deal with the Devil, and it might cost him his own soul, but he didn't think so.

After events of the night before, he rather thought it might be saving the vampire's soul instead. 


	60. Chapter 60 : Rest

*Ah, snow days! Two chapters already, and maybe another one later. :)*

Rest

The Romanis came back to the party on their ponies, stopping the wagon and attempting to explain in Romanian what was occurring. They weren't concerned, there was clearly no pressing threat, but they were trying to communicate something fairly important. After a few moments, when the group realized that nothing was going to be accomplished without assistance, Abraham was woken up again. It was late afternoon, and he'd would be waking soon anyways, so whether or not to rouse him wasn't the subject of much debate.

However, either Abraham needed to decide what to do next, or he needed to wake the monster to find out what the Romanies wanted. No one else was about to touch that coffin, much less wake a blooddrinking monster during the day.

When a groggy Abraham slid the lid aside, the Romani stepped backwards, eyes wide. They only got wider when Abraham reached into the coffin, calling to the Count, and shaking his feet. From what Abraham had already learned, trying to wake the vampire while remaining in reach of him could result in some immediate and severe damage; it was one of the first things Dracula had told him in his new position as master, and one that the vampire had been certain to stress.

So, shake the feet. Grumble and shout. Let the sun beat down on his face. Abraham also had the option of using silver or some other object to wake the vampire through pain but unless it was an emergency, he'd take the slow way.

And slow it was. Several minutes passed, Abraham flinging the legs side-to-side, hauling on them, pulling the monster half-out of his coffin, shouting, and more before the vampire finally responded with a sleepy, frighteningly fast snap, then began blinking himself awake.

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"Town is over the next couple hills." A tremendous yawn, displaying the oversized and needle-sharp dentistry the monster possessed in abundance. "We'll need to stop at an inn, they don't know which one to take us to." Sleepy blinking at Abraham. "There's a very good inn, expensive, good food, locks on the doors, clean beds, etc. that I would recommend. There are a handful of other inns with the train station there, but it's been decades since I would consider staying at one of them." He waited, clearly prefering the fancier inn with every bone in his aristocratic body, not forcing the issue, but also not giving any real information about the other inns. Abraham could feel the vampire's manipulation through the bond, but could also pick up its concern about the prospects of staying at a different hotel, one with rooms less secure.

He might be far less vulnerable with the humans willing to guard him during the day, but clearly, old habits died hard. Abraham was willing to pay for the rooms, what was "expensive" for this region was no more than the cost of a middling hotel room in London, if that, and the attractiveness of secure rooms, good food, and keeping the monster happy made the recommended hotel the obvious choice.

Dracula gave directions to the Romani, and away the party went. The coffins remained in the wagon, but the vampire chose to remain awake, sitting quietly behind Mina and Abraham as the journey continued.

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The hotel was simple, clean, and well-run. Wood floors gleamed with polish, the light provided by candles and not gas, but the candles were high-quality and smoke-free, bright and welcoming. Lanterns were interspersed about the hallways, and the shutters had been thrown open in the dining area to allow the bright winter light to come in through the clean windows. In the lobby, the counter was old, dark with age, but dusted and polished and in excellent repair. A solidly-built porter waited by the door to help travelers with their baggage, and another man stood outside to take the reins and leads of the horses. By the truncheons on their belts and their crooked noses, the men were also clearly providing security services. The hotel clerk visibly gave them a looking-over; they were clearly tired and their clothes not in the best of shape, but the quality of the horses and garments was evident and they were quickly granted three rooms. The clerk looked askance at the Romani as they entered as well, but chose not to make an issue of it. After all, the wealthy did often travel with servants.

Everything spoke quietly of competency and elegance, of money but not extravagance, and it was not the sort of hotel that would appeal to a thief or troublemaker. Trouble only occurred when it was time to unload the wagon.

Their small bags were not a problem. The two crates and the heavy trunk, those were also not an issue (although if the contents had been known, Abraham thought wryly, "issue" would be an understatement!). The weapons, not unusual at all in the mountains for travelers, were genteely ignored. And then Dracula and Abraham walked through the door with the vampire's coffin, intending to place it in Abraham's room. While they considered it acceptable to leave Quincy's well-secured coffin under the guardianship of the groom and stablehand, a thief that managed to open it would not die, nor would any damage cause poor Quincy to become murderously enraged.

Dracula's coffin, on the other hand...

The floor of their locked room was by far the best choice. Otherwise, Dracula would be with it, guarding it in the stables all night, and Abraham was not willing to force the monster away from his side. He'd much prefer the vampire stay with him, and that meant keeping the coffin someplace more secure. Should Dracula be sleeping in his coffin while they waited for the train to load, they didn't need to find the body of a dead thief in the stable, either.

Money only went so far, and the thought of having a putrifying body in the rooms of the hotel went far beyond what money would make acceptable. The clerk was quite firm on this, and the porter's hand went to the truncheon as he observed the disruption with clear disapproval.

Damn, damn, damn, and damnable damnation.

Abraham considered having the vampire show them the empty coffin, but that would only raise more questions about why they were traveling with it and if they had stolen it and more. He wasn't sure what to do...but Dracula's voice put a stop to his tumble of thoughts.

"Master...may I..."handle" this?" Abraham could tell via the bond that the vampire wasn't intending to harm or damage anyone, and he was frankly a little intrigued at what the vampire might do. There was no sense of aggression or threat, just a faint sort of smugness at the ability. Abraham suddenly remembered what had happened to John; the vampire had pushed that memory at him.

It would certainly make the situation easier.

Dracula spoke soothingly to the men in Romanian, maintaining eye contact, and then he and Abraham simply carried the coffin by the oblivious clerk and oblivious porter. At Abraham's inquisitive look, he clarified his actions. "Using their native language makes the control easier. While most of the employees here will speak English or another western language, giving them commands in Romanian works better. He will not see the coffin or remember it." The vampire's mind was completely truthful, and Abraham allowed him to do the same thing to the other hotel employees as they passed by with the coffin.

The coffin was situated in the room, the vampire inside it for the last bit of sunlight that remained, the door locked behind them, and then they went downstairs to eat, then obtain a train schedule.

Abraham was amused but entirely unsurprised to note that not a single mention was made of the coffin by any hotel employee. 


	61. Chapter 61 : Embark

*It's now HIS vampire...along with all the responsibility that entails. How will Abraham handle this? With a touch of overprotective neuroticism, probably not a bad thing around a vampire!*

Embark

The Romani were off in the morning, taking the wagon and team, tents, ponies, and such with them. Abraham was a bit regretful to see them leave; it was now official, the vampire was "his" and the last tie to its former life was gone. The vampire was no longer a part of the Romani's life, its castle now their castle, its few belongings scattered or stored away. If he had been going to abandon the vampire, change his mind, that time had passed.

Instead, he waited on the train platform with their small pile of belongings and the two coffins. A few of the station employees gave them sympathetic looks; they had been here only a few weeks before, with no coffins, and the fresh nature of the one coffin and the presence of both stated clearly the tragic nature of their journey. With a squeal and a puff of steam as the brakes released, their train clammored to a stop at the station.

Abraham had reserved two cars for them; one for the riding horses and the coffins, and a connected sleeping car. It had been expensive, and had taken a substantial amount of arguing, so much so that he was tempted to drag the vampire out of the coffin to settle the matter. But he'd triumphed, and the cars waiting at the station were shuffled about, placing them in an acceptable order, only needing the engine and the other cars to arrive.

And now, the train that would take them out of the snowy mountains of rural Romania had arrived. In short order, the waiting cars had been attached at the end of the line, a few other cars removed and waiting to be unloaded, repaired, or stored until needed. The train huffed and rumbled, stationary while coal and water were replenished, axles greased, and various items and people were removed and boarded.

The horses loaded easily, and while he had been told that fresh hay, feed, and supplies would be waiting for the mounts, he'd had the foresight to go first to the livery stable and purchase good hay, straw, oats, and sturdy troughs for water plus a pitchfork, scoop, and other similar supplies. He simply scooped the dingy grey straw out onto the station platform, complete with the fragrant horseapples, then while the others prepared the stables, he and Arthur carefully moved the coffins onto the train.

The Count had been furious when he found that Abraham had no intention of waking him and allowing him to move the coffin himself, but Van Helsing wanted to keep the vampire's presence secret. At best, there could be an annoying tickettaker angry about a stowaway, and at worst, someone could attempt to destroy the vampire. At least that would ensure it one good meal on the trip, but leave the annoyance of a corpse that would need to be disposed of. Abraham stopped at this thought, wondering at the coldness of it, then realized somberly that it was the effect of having the vampire's mind so closely intertwined with his own.

And how was having his mind interfering with its thoughts affecting his vampire?

His ruminations were broken off when the others announced that they had finished and loaded the horses. Mina waited with their belongings, and in short order, the great heavy crates and small valises and bags had been moved into the sleeper car. This was difficult without the vampire's strength and Abraham had worried that they would need assistance but the men managed to get them onboard. The lighter chains were already wrapped about the coffins, keeping them safe and secure. The crates, with their silver implements and those literally damned books, were being kept safe under the eyes of the travelers despite the crowding of what floor space was present.

Arthur was the most well-traveled of the lot, and he'd had the hard-earned wisdom to also head to the kitchen of the inn and purchase a few extra meals. They'd had to pay for the basket to carry the food and the bowls and plates containing it, but at least there was no risk of finding themselves hungry should the train's dining car be severely substandard. As the train moved into more populous areas and wealthier travelers boarded, the fare's quality would increase, but Arthur was insistent that they prepare for a few bad meals until then!

Seeing everything in order, Abraham yawned. There was food and drink, the bedding was acceptable and their own bedrolls could supplement it if needed. The horses had food, hay, and clean straw at their feet. The coffins were tightly locked, the books and supplies safe. Everyone was on board and healthy, ready to leave. The ticket taker came by as the train rolled out, punching their tickets and going onwards.

There was no longer a reason to stay awake, and he took a bottom bunk, attempting to sleep.

The others played cards, for Mina still had a worn pack tucked away in her valise, and they had a fine time teaching Seward a variety of games. While they were quiet and their humor amusing, Abraham found himself unable to sleep. Something niggled at him, worrying away.

Dammit. The vampire might have locks on his coffin, but a thief could pick them. The horses' car was at the end of the train, only the caboose after it, and any thief would have to pass through their car first to reach the coffin, but his logical mind pointed out that there were other options. A thief COULD have been hiding in the caboose. It could also creep along the roof of the train, and if it thought the payoff was worth it, one might very well do so.

It was with ill grace that Abraham finally rolled out of the comfortable bed, grabbed a pair of bedrolls, and stumbled off to the livestock car. It was colder, noisier, and not as welcome as the warm and comfortable sleeper he had just left.

However, there was plenty of thick straw bedding available, and he had a bedroll and a spare for covers and cushion. It didn't take long to pile up a thick pallet of straw near the coffin, unroll the blankets, and make a comfortable and warm bed for himself.

After a few moments, he got up again, retrieving a pistol from the baggage, checking it for bullets, and then turning to make his way back into the stable area. The others questioned him, but he wasn't up to more than a half-awake grumble, exhausted and so ready to sleep. He and the vampire had spent almost the entire night down in the lobby of the inn, in front of the banked fireplace, some of it in conversation, much of it used to give the vampire a prolonged lesson in Dutch. He was barely awake, but not yet ready to sleep.

Finally comfortable in his bed by the vampire, loaded pistol nearby, he relaxed. His vampire was safe, secure. Should anyone attempt to open the crate or hurt the beast, he would be there to stop them.

Within moments, his loud snores began. 


	62. Chapter 62 : Card Shark

*Well, in Unpredictable, he learned how to play chess...so poker isn't exactly a challenge. If you haven't read Unpredictable or Succession, they are set in the same storyline, just different times. Unpredictable comes after they get to England, and Succession is Post-Integra. Thanks again to everyone who took a second to click "review" and say that they liked it, or to offer a suggestion!*

Card Shark

Dracula was surprised and pleased when he awoke and saw the bedding beside his coffin. Abraham had removed the chains at some point, and upon waking, he had simply listened for unknown voices. Hearing none, it had been a very nice surprise to find Abraham seated comfortably nearby on a mound of straw, playing a round of Solitaire, remains of his dinner beside him. Abraham had stayed with him the entire day, even opting to eat with him rather than the nicely appointed dining car.

That was the only pleasant surprise. The train was NOISY. The smell of the horses was pleasant, especially combined with the fresh hay. But the wheels clacked and banged, the carriage creaked and made mysterious noises, and it was simply moderately unpleasant. It was still preferable to a boat, but that didn't mean it was enjoyable.

He'd simply have to bear with it. A few minutes of checking showed that the bond with Van Helsing was weakening, just barely strong enough to keep him sane, but at least he wasn't inflicting his discomfort on the man. It would need to be renewed before dawn, but not just yet.

"Good evening." Van Helsing's voice was pleasant and pleased, and it warmed something deep in the monster to realize that the human was glad to see him. Confusing, that feeling, and he ignored it. Abraham continued casually onwards, inquiring if he was hungry and if he'd slept well.

"I did not awaken, no, and I fed well from the Romani before dawn. I wouldn't turn down a meal," and his fanged grin flashed at Abraham, "but no, I won't be hungry until tomorrow." Abraham nodded, relieved to have the vampire confirm this.

"Excellent. We'll be in a town by then and see if we can find someone to either bleed medically, or who will sell us blood. I'd rather not have one of us donate, we've all done that enough in the last week, especially John." If he'd expected the vampire to be the least ashamed of this it was a false hope, for Dracula had no such compunction. Humans were there to be eaten, except for Abraham and maybe Mina. He hadn't killed or injured the human, so there was no problem as far as the vampire was concerned. The totally unashamed soft red gaze didn't even blink when Abraham said that.

He might not be hungry, but Dracula definitely needed something to take his mind off the annoyance of the train. Wondering about his new Master only did so much, and he really didn't want to wander through the train and encounter anyone else. Perhaps later he'd go stand outside for a bit, but for now...

"What is that card game?"

By the time the sun rose and he had sought out his coffin, the vampire had become an expert player at a variety of card games and thoroughly trounced Abraham in them. Rather than annoyed, the man was delighted with the vampire's intelligence. He looked forward to teaching it to play a team game, and then taking on the others! 


	63. Chapter 63 : Boat

*This is one of the few scenes, when he's in the hold, that stuck in my head and triggered the story to be written. The others came about as the story passed through, but this scene was there from the very beginning. I simply had to GET TO IT, and there were a lot of chapters in between.

Thank you all for reading; 900 or so hits each day, and about 200 individual readers. That's what kept me writing. Thank you for your support, and now...the finale. :)*  
x x x x x x

Boat

The train trip had been fairly uneventful. They'd transfered to another train, and within a few days, were waiting in northern France for a boat to take them across the channel. Abraham had needed to renew the bond with his vampire as they waited, but even with the bond extremely weak, the vampire had been so obedient, so cautious, Van Helsing hadn't worried overmuch.

They'd also managed to feed the vampire a decent meal. It had taken more openness than Abraham had liked, but the two doctors had gone to a medical school, under the guise of visiting other countries and learning about their medical facilities. With a dutchman and an englishman, it seemed plausible. They'd asked a doctor to save blood after surgeries, and then told him why, in absolute confidence.

He'd insisted on meeting the vampire, and that had not gone well. As he walked around the vampire, excitedly inspecting it, Dracula had grown more and more agitated. Abraham didn't know why the vampire had felt so threatened and become so angry, but he'd pulled the doctor away a bare second before the vampire would have lashed out.

At least it had gotten the vampire a full meal. Afterwards, he'd returned to sulk in his coffin the rest of the night, his angry and betrayed emotions too obvious to Abraham. The sheer roiling boil of the monster's emotions made the thoughts fragmented; always difficult to read, they were now impossible, too varied and too fast. The man felt some guilt, but he wasn't sure why the vampire had reacted as it had. Trying to speak to it had only caused the monster to hiss at him, and now he was ignored even while sitting outside its coffin.

Before long, it was time to load the monster onto the boat, and he regretted not having a chance to speak with it first. But the monster had remained uncommunicative until the sun rose, and the loading would occur during the day.

x x x x x

Abraham was NOT happy about putting the vampire down in the cargo hold. It was in no condition to mesmerize anyone into allowing the coffin to be stored up top, and the cargo hold was strictly off-limits to the handful of paying passengers. It was to be an 8 hour journey, the steamer sturdy but built for volume, not speed, and they would arrive in London well past sunset. This meant the vampire would be down in the hold, alone, in a coffin, on the open ocean, and awake, for at least an hour. But there was nothing for it, no other ship would be arriving any sooner, and delaying the full bond was too risky. It was a powerful tiger being held by a very thin leash, and an insane tiger at that. Binding needed to happen as soon as possible; the vampire had told Abraham, and the blood bond confirmed, that he would have far more control over the vampire afterwards.

There was nothing to do but wrap the chains around the coffins, and pay a bit extra to have them unloaded at the very first. He did get the captain to allow him down in the hold and to check on how they were stowed; a large tip had the coffin carefully handled, no scratches or chipping occuring, and then placed close to the door and with nothing stacked upon it.

After that, it was merely a matter of waiting.

x x x x x x

Two hours passed, the ship beating slowly towards England and home, the vampire sleeping soundly, the bond "dead" to Abraham.

And then, RAGE. FEAR. HUNGER. CONFUSION.

Dracula was awake, though the sun was hours from setting, confused and disoriented on the swells of the ocean, fearful and furious, and there were screams coming from the cargo hold.

Abraham and the captain arrived at the door simultaneously, the captain unlocking it but refusing Abraham entrance as he rushed to see what was occuring. As soon as he was out of the bright light from the open door, he began screaming and cursing himself, the original voice having settled to sobs of fear and pain.

And laced through it were the snarls and roars of a furious creature.

As the sailors stood in shock, Abraham pushed past them, racing into the hold to find his monster.

x x x x x x

The coffin was open, a sailor beside it, alive and awake, but with a great gash in his arm, swearing weakly. The captain was unhurt, but he had focused the beam of his lantern into a corner of the hold, and furious red eyes glowed back out at him. Abraham pushed in front of the captain, moving to the vampire, trying to soothe him.

Confusion, fear, panic, it rolled off the vampire in great waves. He'd found a small corner between the curved hull and a crate, and managed to wedge himself into it. As Abraham approached, the vampire simply shoved himself farther back into the crevice, snarling and snapping.

He wasn't approachable, so Abraham turned to the captain, attempting to stop this mess before it became worse. "Your man tried to rob the remains in the coffins. Those chains, the ones you saw wrapped around the coffins?" Abraham's eyes glared out, as his foot kicked a small metal stick and he stooped to pick it up, never losing his focus on the captain. The lockpick he'd found was brandished in his face. "The damn fool picked the locks, opened the coffin, and I've no doubt started pawing over what he thought was a dead body!"

Accuse, accuse, don't let the damn captain get his verbal feet under him. "Thanks to his greed and your inability to hire honest crew, you've got an injured employee, and my vampire, which WAS peacefully sleeping, is now a frightened mess." He whirled to point at the sobbing sailor, who had recovered enough to be working his way to the ladder. Abraham almost tied a quick bandage on the bleeding arm, the doctor in him crying for him to do so, but the vampire needed him more and the fool wasn't dying. The ship's doctor would be sufficient.

"Get that bastard out of here, keep everyone away while I try to calm the vampire and get him back in his coffin. And I WILL be staying with him, as I clearly can't trust your crew not to harass him." With that, he reached out, wrenching the lantern from the man's hand. Abraham's eyes glared colder when the captain paused, unsure, and he shouted the man out of the hold. "GET THAT THIEVING FOOL OUT OF HERE. AND LEAVE. YOU ARE FRIGHTENING MY PROPERTY, WHICH *YOUR* FOOLISH SAILOR WOKE UP. YOU'VE DONE ENOUGH DAMAGE. NOW LEAVE!" His voice was furious, echoing, and every sailor up at the top knew exactly what had happened. Abraham had intended it so.

He could also hear the voices of his companions, and Arthur pushed past the crowd gathered at the door, then began to come down into the hold. Abraham stopped him with a raised hand. "Arthur, he's simply too upset. He doesn't even recognize me yet. Please, I'm in no danger, but stay back, and keep the others back."

Dracula's furious snarls were fading to confused whimpers as Abraham returned. He sat on the floor, within sight of the vampire, but far enough away that Dracula did not see him as a threat. With the lantern beside him, he was also clearly visible to the crowd waiting at the door.

The last thing he wanted was bullets flying about the enclosed hold. He was too likely to be injured, and if he was injured, he might well loose control of the beast. Better to show the deadly monster as more of a frightened kitten, and thus, he began putting on a bit of a show for the watchers.

"Shhh...shh...it's alright, you're safe now." He pushed that reassurance down the bond, trying to soothe the creature. "Shhh...he's gone...shhh..." The whimpers slowly died, changing to muffled sobs. Awakening on the ocean in the middle of the day had the monster confused, its mind not properly working, and it was operating entirely on instinct. And as vampires, or at least this one, seemed to fear the ocean, that fear was what Abraham was feeling. "Shhh...come on out...don't cry...come on...you're safe..."

The soft voice and gentle coaxing was having its effect. The others in his group were giving him looks that seemed to imply they thought he was mad, but the sailors and the captain were less frightened and angry and more bemused.

"That man is gone. He won't hurt you. You can come out of hiding...it's alright...you're safe..." To his surprise, the sobs were slowly easing, and the eyes began to dim to a more normal soft red. The fear resonating down the bond relaxed, the vampire seeing for himself the absence of the men who had frightened him so, and only his master in front of him.

A whine. The great, proud Count actually whined at him. And slowly, ever so slowly, side pressed against the metal of the ship, the vampire crept out. Abraham shifted slightly, feet falling asleep as he crouched, and the vampire jerked backwards. Those in the doorway gasped in unison, but the vampire ignored them, frightened and hopeful eyes on its master.

The fear was dying in the vampire, but the confusion remained. And need...it needed him, needed him for protection? Abraham kept the amazement off his face. As the vampire became more and more lucid, he felt another fear; that he would abandon the vampire because he had bitten the man who opened his coffin. Dracula didn't remember doing so, being still mostly asleep when it occurred, but there was blood in his mouth and blood on the floor, and he had seen the injured man. Abraham recognized this fear in him, and acknowledged it.

"I'm here...I'm not going anywhere...you were asleep, you didn't do it on purpose. It's not your fault, you didn't kill him. He's going to be fine, and you're safe. He's gone. " The vampire winced at that, and Abraham felt a jolt of worry flare up their bond. Still, fear and confusion predominated. The vampire resumed his slow crawl towards Abraham, finally freezing, pressed abjectly on the filthy, cold, wet floor, eyes shut, only a few inches from his master's feet.

x x x x x

Attempting to touch and soothe the vampire caused it, instead, to jerk back in fear, so Abraham kept his hands to himself, maneuvering the vampire by voice back into its coffin. "I'll stay here now...I'm not going anywhere. Just sleep safely until sunset." Once the beast was inside, he moved to replace the lid, heavy and awkward and solid, and the vampire's fear, which had banked down to a more complacent acceptance, flared again.

No lid.

Abraham instead took a fairly uncomfortable seat on a nearby crate, waiting in the dank, odorous hold for the sun to set and the vampire to sleep and then wake again, but fully, not the frightened, drowsy confusion that Van Hellsing could still detect via their bond.

x x x x x x

Things still might have gone badly, but the others had the sense to go and get their pistols, wearing them openly. With a small crew on the ship, taking on five well-armed people and a monster was not something they were willing to try, and instead, they simply gave the hold and its two residents a wide berth. A bed roll had also been provided to Abraham by Seward, meant to cushion the hard slats of the crate he sat upon. Dracula's coffin was only a few inches away, and Abraham was surprised to see a thin white hand creep out, feeling about for him. It touched the edge of his coat sleeve, gripping it tightly. Peering over the edge, Abraham could see the vampire relaxing at proof of his proximity, and within moments the bond had died down, the vampire sleeping peacefully yet again.

It was sunset when the creature awakened. Slowly this time, unmolested, the red eyes blinked open. As the vampire awoke, the gaze slowly sharpened, then began searching about for Abraham. Once he was seen, the vampire continued to gaze peacefully at his master, his mind and body slowly awakening. It was several minutes before he woke up, and once he was fully awake, Abraham was able to detect a confusing series of emotions.

Gratitude, first and foremost, and relief that his master was there. Then concern. Not guilt, although Abraham had almost mistaken the vampiric emotion for that. Concern, worry, and the intent to conceal something from his master. He frowned at the vampire. "What is wrong? We're within an hour of England, and you're stewing. After today's events and a long afternoon in this dank hole, I'm not in a wonderful mood. Don't even consider lying to me, I'm in no mood for it."

The vampire crumpled a bit at this, then hesitantly spoke. "I...the sailor...I bit him." He winced. "I might have ghouled him, I don't know what I did as I bit him. If so, he's going to die and animate very soon. I need to see him, I'll be able to tell if he's...infected...or only injured." The vampire looked rather abashed and worried.

But Abraham placed no blame on him. The coffin had been secured, the thief had chosen to rob the dead on his own and had put effort into doing so. That the dead had taken exception to this and been too sleepy to react rationally was not the fault of the dead. The thief didn't deserve to be ghouled or to die, not for theft, but Abraham couldn't feel any pity for him. He had chosen a poor way to act, and the consequences were more severe than expected, but it had been his choice. And with the terror and confusion the vampire had experienced, he'd certainly suffered too, all for the greed of that sailor.

Abraham nodded, then moved to the ladder, calling up for the captain, that he needed to speak with him. As the captain's frightened face appeared, Abraham explained briefly what had happened, trying not to frighten the man further. "When the vampire was attacked, he bit the man, and vampiric bites can sometimes carry a contagion. I need to see the man and determine if he's infected before I can do anything about it. Now that it's fully awake, I can have the vampire check, and then treat the thief if necessary. If he's infected and I don't act quickly, he's likely to die or spread the infection." There was immediate refusal, and then Abraham required that the sailor be brought down to him instead. More refusal, more bickering. To Abraham's shock, the vampire moved close to him, crept hesitantly up behind him, and buried its face in the back of his jacket.

It was the first time Abraham could remember the vampire touching him; he hadn't realized how cold the creature was, but he could feel the chill through the jacket as much as he could feel the vampire's hesitation in this behavior through the bond. But the touch seemed to soothe the creature, and its clearly timid and withdrawn behavior caused the captain to clearly re-evaluate how much of a threat it truly posed.

Permission was grudingly granted to inspect the patient, and then the vampire was to remain in their rooms until the ship docked. The men would need to be working in the cargo hold, preparing to unload, and would not do so with the monster in it. Abraham nodded, relieved at the chance to possibly avert a disaster with that sailor. If the thief was ghouled, he'd be able to isolate it and destroy it before others were bitten. He turned to his monster, pulling away from the cold face.

"Follow behind me, do NOTHING to upset the sailors or captain. We're going to see the thief that got bitten," and Abraham deliberately used "thief" instead of sailor, and sidestepped saying that the vampire had done the biting, aware of the audience still clustered at the door, "and you'll tell me if he's infected. You'll then be waiting with me in my rooms. Understood?" The vampire's eyes were wide, timid, as he nodded.

x x x x x x

The trip had been a disaster to him. The ocean was making him feel sick and dizzy, weak. He had been loaded while asleep, had no chance to prepare himself against it. In the hold, he was only a few feet from the water, not suspended above it on the decks. The confusion of waking to find hands on him, digging through his clothes, the terror of being so clumsy, stiff, unable to defend himself, the realization that he'd bitten a man, and Abraham might be so furious as to leave him...it was simply more than the tired vampire could handle.

He simply nodded, then meekly followed his master out of the hold, terrified of angering him and being abandoned.

x x x x x x

The sailor would be alright. His arm would be horribly scarred, and Abraham had no intention of asking the vampire to mend it. The radius had been cracked, and the ship's doctor reported that a few of the tendons had also been severed. The right-handed thief had just lost much of the use of his right hand, and would not be picking locks again for a very very long time, if ever. The waves of relief from the vampire were clear, and his steps were much less prone to dragging as Abraham took him towards the cabin the passengers shared.

Dracula whined briefly, and Abraham paused. He realized with a jolt of embarassment at his stupidity what was wrong; the vampire's coffin would be unwatched.

Damned if he was going through the charade of asking permission for this. He went with the vampire to the hold, watching him go down and fetch his coffin. It was heavy, taking two people to shift, but the vampire carried it as though it were made of papier mache and entirely empty. It was settled gently and lovingly on the floor of their room, and the vampire took a seat upon it. He was clearly tense as Seward, Arthur, and the Harkers were crowded in with him, and Abraham gently shooed them out.

He picked up the journal, the vampire's soft red eyes on it, the beast slowly relaxing more and more. After a bit, the vampire began to speak, and the topic was not one Abraham would ever have expected.

"You call me Count in your journal. Monster, beast, vampire, Dracula. Mina calls me Vlad." Solemn red eyes blinked at Abraham. "Those are all who I was. I am still a vampire, but I am no longer a powerful Count, but your servant. Dracula, the son of the Dragon, is a name suited for a warrior. I have left that behind to join you. Vlad...that is what Mina knew me as, when I courted her as a master. It is not who I am now, I have a master." The vampire shifted restlessly about on the coffin, reaching out the take the journal, then staring at it as he thought, mind clearly elsewhere. "I have no name that suits me. I do not wish to answer to Count or Dracula or Vlad, and vampire...it is not a name."

Abraham agreed, watching the much reduced creature as it sat before him. It had gone from lord to servant, from powerful and confident to timid, from independent to dependent. Everything in its life had changed, reversed abruptly and with finality. No wonder it wanted a new name, a new start to its new existence. But whatever name could fit the vampire? He pondered, looking down at the page, the first word on it "Dracula." With the journal upside-down, the name was hard to read, reversed on the page.

He blinked. Reversed. Everything else was reversed for the monster, why not the name? He sounded it out in his mind, rolling it across his tongue silently, then smiled at the brooding monster.

"Everything else is reversed. Why not your name?" At his confusion, Abraham grinned. "Come, now, Alucard. Any objections?"

The vampire was speechless for a minute, then smiled at his master, eyes warm with approval.

A new name.

The last shackles of his old life fell off him, and all he could do was look forward to his new life with a sense of joy and peace he had not felt for a long, cold, and lonely time.

x x x x x x x x x x

Wow. That's it. Done. Finished. The story after this is the first chapter of Unpredictable.

I can't believe I actually completed the story.

I'm going to go stare at the wall in shock for a bit.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to all the people who read this, and huge THANK YOUS! to the ones that took time to encourage me and review the stories. I literally couldn't have done this without you.

I hope you all enjoyed the trip with me; and now, onwards with the other stories. :) 


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